


The Fisher in the Reeds

by JuncoBirds



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuncoBirds/pseuds/JuncoBirds
Summary: I know I’m not meant to be the King. I know I don’t belong here. And now, finally, I’m going to do something about it: I’m leaving.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 21
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know no other content for this game than what was told in-game.  
> Characters and settings belong to Square Enix.

~Noctis~

Everything packed, all the tokens tucked away. There’s still something missing, something I haven’t done. Yet, in the lightless room, with the sheets perfectly tousled, door locked, and alarms off, it all looks ready. My bag’s been re-packed three times, the list in my hip pocket; I’m ready, I’m ready.

And yet….

The stars look cold tonight. The world too large and vast for me to just… go. I know I’m too uncouth to belong here. I can’t please my father. I’m no leader; no Prince; no King.

I’m only me.

So, I swing my bag over my shoulders. It’s time. With a click of the buckle around my waist, I glance at the clock again: 00:35. Everyone of importance should be asleep by now. Walking to the sliding glass door of the balcony, I move the curtains aside with the back of a gloved hand to peer at the rooftops of the Citadel. No special guards tonight. Anyone keeping a lookout will be on the ground.

Backing up, I inhale deeply, the backpack’s strap constricting my chest. It’s time, it’s time.

It’s time.

Gathering momentum enough for the warp, I lunge forward, exploding into a sprint mid-step. Slipping into the void for a moment to phase through the curtain and door.

Slamming to a stop, I drop to a crouch on the balcony, looking around again.

The wind moves steadily tonight, swaying the bits of loose hair by my ears. The wind makes no sound, in fact, the citadel and city both seem asleep. Dark too, tonight the new moon rests in the sky, the light glimmering faintly off the adjacent skyscrapers.

I’ve dressed in all black to match the sky. No one should see me out there.

Reaching up, I test the door, checking that it’s locked behind me. Next, I check my pocket for my phone, still turned on. I don’t dare awaken it; the engineers can tell whenever I fiddle with it. Need to give them as much of an enigma as I can, to slow them down.

Creeping up to the marble railing of the balcony, I look down. Next step: the southern river. I’ll deposit my phone there before heading out of the city. Doesn’t matter where I go after that; they won’t be able to find me. Away from Regis, away from the arranged marriage, the history classes, the politics, the disappointment, the expectations placed on me. Placed on somebody so unworthy of being King one day.

Still… the river will give them a start, something to hold onto. Let them know that I’ve been there before, that I’ve left the Citadel unattended, unsupervised; I’ve already lived a life outside the gaze of royalty, and I _like_ it. I can make it fine on my own.

Prompto will be distressed. He can manage though. I’ve held off leaving until I knew he could get by on his own. And if he changes his plans… I’ll let him find me. I should have told him. Invited him? No. But, I’ll miss him. I’ll miss all of them.

I don’t look back as I pull out the knife from my belt. My heart hammers against my chest, nearly loud enough to wake the city.

I warp to the rooftop with a throw of the knife.

##### Chapter One: Departure


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to gkmoberg1 (on fanfiction net) who has been beta-reading the story so far! And thank you guys for the kudos on chapter one!

~Gladiolus~ 

Pristine halls echo at the thud of my bootsteps. The cobalt insignias inlaid in the marble care not for the noise, while the banners and open windows mute the sound with practiced patience. Sometimes Noct throws himself from his room before I even knock, hearing my approach.

I pound my soles into the floor a little harder for him.

Arriving at his door, I stand back from the glossy wood a moment to check my phone. Noct hasn’t yet read my message. Probably hasn’t woken up yet. I knock. Silence. Silence for an unnervingly long moment. I knock again, louder.

Glancing back and forth down the hallway, I make sure he’s not staring at me, tapping his foot, arms crossed, making me out to be an idiot for passing him on the way here. I knock for the last time, calling out: “Noct, the gym’s getting cold!” He doesn’t like my humor.

No response.

I grasp the knob and _it turns_. Calling out, “you’d better be out of bed,” I swing the door open while stepping in. The bed’s empty, sheets thrown over half the edge, grey shadows clouding the furthest edges of the room. The carved wooden nightstand lacks his phone, the charger coiled up neatly off to the side.

I text Ignis, inquiring if Noct has anything scheduled for this morning. Usually, I’m told of these things; maybe’s there’s been an emergency? Or, more likely: the wedding details from Altissia have just entered the drawing room (much like a training room, but quieter and prone to smelling like wood carvings), and perhaps Noct is needed for his input on some last minute review of the details. I share Noct’s idea of the whole thing being a waste of time, although I would never tell him that.

Ignis texts me back, _‘No. Has he skipped out on training?’_

I respond, _‘might have. Have you seen him? / Just checked his room.’_

Looking up and walking through the bedroom, I give a little smile. The place has been cleaned up nicely. Noct is hardly known for cleaning. Someone must’ve given him a scolding, probably one of the maids; unfortunately, I don’t know many of their names. I’ll have to find them and thank them. That said… my eyes go back to the phone charger neatly placed in a coil. Noct wouldn’t do that.

It’s too dark in here to see properly, so I stride over and pull the drapes away from the balcony door. It feels better than turning on the lights. And the room needs more sunlight anyway.

Another two text from Ignis: _‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday. / At dinner.’_

I look back at the room, the ground below me almost titling. Something’s wrong. Too clean, too organized. No haphazard piles of video game cartridges or clothes. In a half second, I travel to the open bathroom door to the left of the room’s entrance. It’s open, but dark. I flip the switch and observe the smaller room. Nothing of interest here. I don’t know what I expected to find.

I check my phone again. If Ignis hasn’t seen Noct, the next bet is Prompto. He won’t wake up until after nine. There’s no training for him today, and he shares Noct’s beliefs in holding down the bed for as long as possible. It’s only 07:13, a respectable hour in the morning. I consider calling him, then backtrack, instead shooting him a message. Turning, I switch of the light and leave Noct’s bedroom altogether, gently shutting the door behind me. I send Noct another message, _‘not funny.’_

He’s probably at the training grounds, waiting for me to show up, pretending that this altercation is reason to cut practice short today.

~o0o~

Standing in the center of the arena, I call Noct, hearing the chimes ring on my end a whole seven times before it goes through to voicemail. I leave him a nice, short message: “Game’s up, Noct. I’m calling Ignis and Cor down here if you don’t show in five minutes.”

The minutes slide by like a glacier.

A glacier that leaves me feeling cold despite the sunlight steaming through the open sky.

I text Ignis: _‘calling Cor if he doesn’t show up. / Regis might have wanted to talk.’_

_‘I’ll go check the library. / Then the study halls.’_

The gnawing in my stomach intensifies. Sure, Noct has done some strange things recently, but this is too far. This isn’t him. He wouldn’t dare be aware from bed this early in the morning.

My last messages to Noct sits unread in the chat.

I call Cor after I search the training arena, checking behind every box and weapons stand as if he would ever be there. The cell rings twice before he picks up. He greets me with the usual, stone-dry, emotionless drawl, “Yes, Amicitia?”

“My sincerest of apologies for interrupting you, but have you seen Noctis this morning?”

“No.”

“I’ve been searching for him, and Ignis doesn’t know where he is either. You aren’t aware of him being called to any meetings?”

“No, he hasn’t been. Let me alert the Crownsglaive.” A hint of alarm trickles through his voice.

“No need to get serious, I’m sure we’ll find him shortly.”

“Maybe some urgency will pull him out of hiding quicker. Such actions are hardly amusing.”

“Hmm, thank you, General.” 

He hangs up. I watch the screen, waiting for any word from Ignis. He’s better at this sort of… thing.

‘Hide and go seek’ doesn’t seem to fit Noct. Falling asleep in the library comes closer to his style. Still,… he has been extra jittery lately. Maybe something came up with Regis, the two of them have been at odds recently.

I take to standing off to the entrance of the training arena, waiting for Noct to appear with some half-waved apology. In the meantime, I text the groupchat with the three of us- Prompto, Ignis and myself- that _‘I’ve contacted Cor and updated him on Noct’s disappearance’_. A moment later, I tack on, _‘standard procedure, probably nothing serious_.’ Prompto probably doesn’t know all the emergency procedures yet. I’ll run him through some scenarios after Noct comes out of hiding.

A mere eight minutes later, Ignis calls me. I answer before the second ring. He sounds as if he’s walking, “where are you?”

“In the training arena. West entrance.”

“Alright. I’ve been told to help you look for him. Have you called him yet?”

“Yes,” my voice sounds clenched.

“I’ll call him now. Meet me in the armor hall—and call Prompto on the way over. He might know something.”

I start walking before he hangs up.

I call Prompto on the move. The line chimes in waiting. And keeps singing. And kee-

“Hello?!” Prompto yelps, sounding startled to wakefulness.

“Hey, we’re looking for Noct, you seen him around?”

Shuffling on the other end of the line, “Nope, not here, why?”

“He’s not here either. Wondering if you had any leads.”

“Mmm.” He sounds tired. After a few moments, he responds, “I’m on my way over.” His voice sounds strange, urgent in a groggy out-of-touch manner unfit for his lax attitude. More shuffling follows followed by silence. I check to make sure he didn’t hang up on me; he usually says goodbye. He keeps going after a heartbeat: “I’ll give him a call then be on over. Catch you soon!”

“Iggy’s-”

The line’s dead.

I put my phone back into my pocket after checking for any unread messages.

Nothing new.

Noct, why do you have to cause trouble for yourself?

##### Chapter 2: Missing


	3. Chapter 3

~Prompto~

It’s not even eight-thirty, no, _zero-eight-thirty (HA!)_ by the time I get off at the Citadel’s rotary bus stop. Normally, I’d still be in bed. My legs don’t feel it, but I feel it in my head. Noct’s missing. Need to find him.

But why would he _hide_?

Before me, the blue and black towers glint white and silver in the rising sun, giving no obvious answer. The tower guard checks my badge as I let myself in. I’ll be meeting Gladio outside Noct’s room. _And_ I’ll be taking the stairs to get there; I need _something_ to wake me up.

I dial Noct on the way there. He lets it go through to voicemail. I leave him a short message, “hey Noct, Gladio got me up to come look for you. I’m at the Citadel now. Call me back.” That’s the fifth one I’ve left him. He’s never left me hanging past the second call. Maybe he lost his phone?

Except, Gladio sounded worried when he called. Gladio _never_ sounds anything less than stoic. To my knowledge, nobody would want to… kidnap Noct. Or harm him? I’m not really sure. History and politics were never my strong suit, current events either. Niflheim wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, but as long as Noct doesn’t leave the city, he’ll be fine; they can’t get in. Ignis promised he would fill me in once I got accepted into Noct’s Kingsglaive, which we finished the paperwork for only five days ago.

 _We_ being Noct and I, but mostly Noct. I just supplied my ID’s.

I leave the stairs at the landing and start making my way down the corridors.

My phone dings. It’s Ignis: _‘Where are you?’._ I speed up a little so I can surprise them with my early arrival.

Around the next corner and we’ll be there.

Chatter bounces off the polished white walls, low murmurs and a steady stream of casual tones. When Noct finds out how big this search has become, he’ll be pissed. I’d bet all my money on him putting us all on a special task force to find his phone once we catch up to him.

… Or he slipped his phone into the void and is off taking a nap while us losers look for him. I’ll have some strong words later for him. Might refuse to go fishing with him- _that_ ought to upset him.

“The river?” The voice would cut steel like butter if not for the heaviness that fills the air to deaden the blow.

When I turn the bend, Iggy, Gladio and some of the other Crownsglaive are clustered outside Noct’s bedroom door. Their conversation drops in tone and I tune it out for the moment. Instead, I flick my gaze among the cluster parked outside Noct’s room, slowing my approach. Gladio’s dressed in his workout attire, his long, dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Ignis has more professional attire on, black with grey highlights, and his short sandy-grey hair groomed to neatly tuck behind his ears. Seven other glaive members stand with them.

“I can drive,” Ignis puts in, all tall and business ready, his voice only hitched slightly. Slightly enough for me to know that something is truly _wrong_.

One of the men sees me- Grideo, I think? He wears the black and grey of my classmates – and calls out louder, “Promto, glad you’re here. Let’s get moving.”

“Where we off to?”

Gladio responds, “the river. By Trout’s alley.”

“What for?” Did Noct…? Why would he go alone? Did something happen? Did Regis…?

And none other than Cor The Immortal exits from Noct’s room, face in the usual poker-face grimace. He dons the black attire of the glaive with a flair of several silver buttons down his jacket and white interlocking curls on his shirt that I recognize as Regis’ Kingsglaive personal design. Not that I would need to see the insignias to know his importance, literally everyone in this city recognizes Cor. He spares me a glance in acknowledgement before addressing Ignis, “We’ll finish up in here while your team checks outside. Call me if you find anything.”

Ignis and Gladio nod curtly to Cor, responding in a “yes sir” before walking the other way down the hall. Gladio summons me to hurry up and I pass Cor with a quick nod of my head, trying not squirm. He makes my insides turn to goop sometimes when he looks at me, and I duck out to avoid that from happening. Luckily, his pale blue eyes miss me, and he starts talking to some other members of the glaive.

“What for?” I ask again as more glaives follow in behind us.

Iggy responds now, face turned into taught lines, “because that’s where his phone last was.”

~o0o~

The river runs deep black. Ignis and Gladio stand together at its edge looking to its rolling murkiness.

Noct’s not here.

His phone’s here, somewhere, but no Noct.

Crownsglaive pass back and forth on both sides of the river, talking to people and venturing deeper into the city. Wires and thin metal sticks like wispy twigs pass between some of the glaives: the technicians will use radio telemetry receivers to locate his phone; they’ll start at the southernmost crossover and walk north until they find it, or Noct. The pings to the cell towers indicate he’s vaguely near the water.

Regular folks stand by the river, watching the scene. I check my own phone before wandering off. Alone. I’m not qualified to lead a party yet, or handle transmitters- no, receivers- I’m just eyes on the ground.

A sickness churns in my belly now, a discomfort from the people around me and the growing space around me where Noct would be. Ignis and the others think Noct’s gone. Away. Somewhere else. Cor, still at the Citadel, has started a formalized search of the Citadel. He could have been taken, or worse. So far, no demands have been made. No ransom.

He’s not off sleeping somewhere. He’s _missing_.

Except….

He wasn’t a very good fighter, maybe. That’s what Gladio always said anyway. Said the Prince needed to bulk up and train. I haven’t told the others about Noct and I slipping out, or how when we would wander the library how easily he phased across rooms. He could escape a moving car if he had to. It might hurt a bit, but he could manage. He kept knives in the void too, long throwing knives which he could pull out at a moment’s notice to whisk at a tumbling newspaper or fish leaping from the water. He could handle himself. Maybe they don’t know that, but I do.

Fiddling with my wristband, I tell myself that. He’ll be okay. Not a soul would hurt him, no one wanted to hurt him. He’s just out of sight.

We would practice together in the training rooms. The Crownsglaive gave me several guns to work with, and I trained with them daily. Noct would join, although he preferred a blade above any machine. Not to say he couldn’t use a gun; he just chose not too.

I had him store one of my pistols for me in the void. Wherever he is now, he has that too. The thought comforts me slightly.

More reasonably, Noct’s just off sleeping and we all passed him by. Nothing serious ever happens on a _Thursday._ People don’t get kidnapped on Thursdays; Noct’s just sleeping.

No, no, no, he’s on his way home right now. Obviously, his phone being at the river, he came out here to do some night fishing, because Astrals know how much he yearned to fish under the light of the star sky. Except he didn’t even hint about fishing to me after training yesterday. Maybe he didn’t want me to come? Hardly, he knows I’d wake up to guard his back while he wandered the city.

Two days ago, Regis and Noct met for their bi-weekly screaming fest. At least, that’s how their meetings have been described to me by literally everyone, including Noct. Something could have come up then. Noct enjoys putting some distance between himself and his dad to think.

Still a stupid idea to come to the river alone, _at night._

Or, he didn’t go alone because _I_ did something? What have I done recently? I don’t remember; nothing beyond the normal, probably.

The people around me murmur. I mix in with them, hoping to hear a reassuring word, or any hint about Noct. Someone much have seen him slip away once the glaives started to show up.

“What’s the Crownsglaive doing out here?” an elderly chap grumbles.

A mother holds her child’s hand, “did someone fall in the river?”

“Nan says they found one o’ them Niflheim spies,” a young boy boasts to his friends.

The other people seem to have no clue. I’d rather not ask them either. I’m dressed in the typical glaive garb of black with a knife strapped to my thigh and a pistol on my hip. They’ll be suspicious if I start asking questions, and Gladio said to leave the locals to the experts. Everyone here might be pulled in for interviewing in a safe room.

I hope it doesn’t come to that. Noct _needs_ to reappear.

But I don’t understand. Noct wouldn’t hide. He wouldn’t. If his phone’s here, he’ll be nearby. We came by and he slipped away so he wouldn’t be caught out of the Citadel.

Or he’s on his way home, but if he’s still in the area- he left his phone, he would come back for his phone no matter the consequences.

Looming buildings close about me, the ground floors displaying a mess of wares for people to serve and buy. At the river, the buildings don’t clear five stories tall. Noct wouldn’t like it here. He would have the water in eyesight. I head back toward the water. The people let me through. I offer them smiles without words. Let them wonder anything but the truth.

He’ll come out.

He’s near. He has to be.

Back at the river, Gladio and Iggy have ventured off downstream to talk to some of the officials. Most everyone else has retreated to lean against their vehicles or traveled further into the city. Multiple people speak in low voices into their phones.

Along the water there’s no fence. Upstream, a small staircase leads down the meter drop to the water level. I head towards that. It’s nothing but a wooden platform, a bench pressed up against the wall of the street road and a bucket upside-down and off to the side. A fishing spot. Noct kept a fishing pole in the void too. He purchased it with me one day along with several reels and explained how different fish and environments require special equipment. There’s fly catching, and different lures for depths, and, uhh, a lot of expensive gear that a normal person might balk at the price of.

He kept the fishing tackle in the void, explaining that Iggy and Gladio wouldn’t be able to reach it. This would be our secret.

I wish now that he’d kept fewer secrets. If he wandered off at night to fish, he could have brought Gladio along. His Shield could hardly say no to that. There may have been some odd questions, but Gladio’s chill, he wouldn’t be mad.

At the fishing outpost with the wood creaking under my feet, I wish I had my own fishing rod. I didn’t much like the activity, but maybe just holding one would summon Noct out of hiding. Instead, I sit on the wooden floor before the bench, looking out at the water. If Noct were around, he’d be here. He’ll come here. Eventually.

This spot’s familiar. I’ve sat here before, although Noct didn’t like to come here often. The fish here were all common species. He’d moved on to catching one of every species in the city. He had a checklist and notebook of record sizes for each species he found. It almost reminded me of video game accomplishments.

The sun rises higher, the light reflecting off the cool water in bouncing sheets. A good day to be a duck. Not that there are any ducks in the city or anything, but. Oh well.

I check my phone. Nothing.

Astrals, I wish I could be _useful._

I’ll ask-

Across the way, Gladio and Iggy walk close together in slow strides. Gladio waves to me as they walk, before engaging in conversation with some officer who points to the water and holds a device in her hand. They stop and talk where they are. Another two officers come up to them from within the city and Iggy turns to listen to them.

Gladio turns away and steps back towards the water, walking along its edge in silence for a few steps. He puts a hand to his face and pinches the length of his nose, then rubs his eyes deeply, as if to massage his brain.

I swallow. I’d rather not know the news.

Two officers pass behind me on the path, talking of machines and weights and nets. They mean to dredge the river.

They think Noct’s phone is down there.

(They think Noct is down there.)

Something in my throat swells and I look down at my kneecaps. Noct would be here beside me. He would fish and I would play King’s Knight or slowly do my calculus homework, or later: study for the Crownsglaive exams. It would be quiet in a good way, a comfortable blanket of closeness.

I want to vomit.

He can’t be gone.

He’s just nearby. On the way home. Sleeping somewhere. Somewhere no one can locate him.

My eyes squirm, my vision wavering.

Something vibrates on the boards _br-r-r-r-r-r-r! br-r-r-r-r—r!_ I turn back, looking at the bench, standing there innocently. I check my phone. Not my phone vibrating? Who..?

I’m under the bench, on my back, scrabbling at the wooden frame holding the old thing up.

Underneath, it’s dark and smells like old pants and fish guts. There’s a plastic bag tucked back here, clear and glimmering faint blue. I tug on it and catch a phone. A phone encased in a closed bag. The screen shows a picture of Gladio, sitting and cleaning his sword. He’s calling- Gladio’s calling-

I drag myself out by my heels and call out before I even stand up.

Gladio has an ear to his phone. He stares at me as I wave the bag, careful not to drop it. He keeps staring until his call ends and I pull the bag close to my body, staring at it.

Noct has 86 missed calls.

##### Chapter 3: The Phone


	4. Chapter 4

~Noctis~

I stop for a rest in the shade of some scabby-looking tree and slide the pack from my back. I could put the whole thing into the void, but that would look weird; a hitchhiker with no belongings would look more suspicious than a hitchhiker _in the middle of nowhere_ with a backpack. I take a gulp of water and survey my surroundings. Sickly yellow dirt and jagged rock slopes stretch from me to the horizon in every direction. Looks like an abandoned wasteland. Probably is, people used to live here, a long time ago now.

I pull my map out and unfold it onto the loose soil. The compass from my hip comes to join it on the ground. Figuring out the map took some time when I fist picked it up from a kiosk in the city outskirts. I’ve looked at it more in the last week alone than any book Ignis ever gave me. Still, the world looks much different now that I’m out here. There’s no lines, waypoints nor boundaries to tell me where I am in the real world.

I like it.

The map tells me I’m thirty miles from Hammerhead in a straight line. I could get there in two- or three-days time. However, I’ll be taking the long route, not the straight path. Hopefully, by the time I get there, any scouts the Crownsglaive sends will have left already. There’s no way I can outrun them, my best bet is that they pass by me and don’t look back. Nobody should recognize me; I have a minimal disguise of a hat and fake glasses. They look stupid. Once I’m out far enough away from the city, I should be able to chuck the whole thing.

A buzzard screams above me. In the distance, some animals roam, pointed, large grey things that I’ve never seen before and don’t intend on meeting ever. I don’t pay them much mind. Instead, I flop down on my back and let the gritty sand tickle my arms.

It’s just past midday.

The truck I snuck onto last night got me out faster than I expected. I felt the bumping of the bridge exiting the city and could smell the sea air from inside the truck. Surrounded by boxes of bits and bobs for selling elsewhere, I rattled along with the merchandise, feeling ever more like baggage the further we traveled. We stopped at Ostium Gorge, a checkpoint for all vehicles. I snuck off there at dawn. Honestly, it’s been smoother sailing than I planned for. I thought I would have to knock out at least a few guards, but no, the place was oddly deserted.

Kinda like we’re not in a fifteen-year war.

My fists clench and unclench.

Not my problem anymore.

I wonder what kind of chaos I’ve caused at the capital. Probably best I’m not there to find out. Best I’m not there at all.

##### Chapter 4: Short Shadows and Silent Skies


	5. Chapter 5

~Ignis~

When I finally get a moment’s peace, it’s nearly 16:00. The sun will be setting shortly.

And we haven’t found Noct yet.

That’s out of my hand now. Cor instructed Gladio, Prompto and I to stay at the Citadel and wait for Regis to summon us. We’re to give an account of everything noteworthy that’s happened between us and Noct in the past three days (although, I imagine that must be pushed back till tomorrow by now, it’s much too late for that at present). That is, if they don’t find him first. The Crownsglaive’s out there dredging the river as I wait, and other glaives are checking the streets.

We know he’s not dead. Gladio and I can still access the void, which Noct’s magic allows us to do. We’re looking for _hints_ now. A tossed knife, a well-hidden ransom letter. Anything.

I get up from the seat I took to rest on and make for the residential floors of the citadel. I’ll make myself a nice ebony and something to eat. Breaking my stride, I text Gladio and Prompto, _‘on my way to make dinner. Come over if you can.’_ I have no idea where they’ve gone off to.

Downstairs, in one of the small kitchens made especially for me to prepare food for Noct and company, I take inventory of the fridge, noting that nothing has vanished since the last time I checked, nearly an hour ago. I’ll make pasta and chicken. Something quick and easy.

On the fridge, I’d stuck a chart of what we’d be eating over the course of the month. Noct could look ahead that way and find a way to politely tell me he’d be skipping dinner with us. Now, I wonder what to do with it. All that time’s been planned already, it can’t just vanish like that.

I leave the list for now.

Halfway into my work, Gladio walks in, calling out a soft, “hello”, and seats himself at the small table in the side room. The table’s not quite large enough to be called a dining table in this regal Citadel, but large enough to function as one. Gladio seems to muse over the wood of the table, scratching it lightly with his fingernails.

“Got something on your mind?”

“Yeah.”

I work in silence for a few moments before finding it unbearable, “call Prompto, will you please? I’m not sure where he wandered off to.”

“Sure thing.” The usual roughness returning to his voice.

He doesn’t call Prompto. He texts him instead, which is fine.

When I’m finished, I plate our food and bring over Gladio’s dish to him. We sit together on opposite ends of the short table lit by a large window overlooking the western side of the city. Gladio thanks me and takes small careful bites of his meal. I consider him, his shoulders tense, and I drop any notion of conversation for later.

Prompto arrives shortly, walking at such a pace he might be trying to casually run. He rambles, “sorry Iggy. I got caught up in the stairwell again; it’s all these floors, they look the same, y’know. Don’t know how people actually live here.” He takes his food and sits. “Thanks, Iggy.”

Eating together feels off. It’s usually just the three or four of us, but not like this. Gladio shouldn’t still be in his workout attire, Prompto has his casual uniform on rather than one of his numerous t-shirts and armband accessories. Right now, I’d be about done with work for the day, but, no, there’s still so much more left to do. It’s the right time, the right people, but none of the satisfaction of having reached the end of the day.

We eat, and when we’re done, I clean my glasses.

Prompto takes our dishes to the wash and grabs us each a glass of water. His blond hair and freckles gleam nearly red in the fading light while Gladio’s dark hair and sprawling raptor tattoo make him look more of a shadow than a person.

Gladio speaks softly, or as softly as he can rumble in his deep voice, “there’s no word from Cor yet.”

“They haven’t found him then.” I answer. And I don’t want to dwell on that.

Prompto seats himself and sits unmoving in a silence unusual for him. He’s been alternating between bounding off the walls and eerie stillness ever since he found Noct’s phone. Right now, he idly checks his phone’s lock screen, before adjusting his gaze towards the window, his cobalt-blue eyes shifting without focusing.

Gladio shuffles his shoulders to summon my attention. We don’t have many codewords, but Gladio opens a palm to gesture towards Prompto and gives a wide-eyed raise of his eyebrows in the clearest sign of ‘he’s not okay’. Honestly, I should have expected that. If Regis hadn’t specifically called for the three of us, I would have sent Prompto home. Pity this nonsense had to happen not four days after Prompto entered the Kingsglaive; he can’t even use magic yet.

And now he might never learn.

My own phone goes off, Gladio and Prompto snapping their attention to me.

“It’s Cor,” I read from the screen before picking up.

~o0o~

Regis, Cor and several of the king’s advisors huddle around the table. Prompto sits on my left and Gladio on my right. The darkness of the Citadel’s interior rooms never fails to cast a serious demeanor on anyone who lingers indoors too long. And here, only the drawn, etched faces of unease remain on the faces of the Kingsglaive and Crownsglaive present.

Cor, who never looked joyful to begin with, has a scowl etched deep into the lines of his face. His short hair and beard glimmer silver around the edges from the glistening lighting of the room, making his very figure and poise match the grand name he’s been bestowed: _Cor, the immortal._ Regis, on the other hand, has naturally greyed hair, highlighted by his dark and gold-ringed attire. His cane leans against his chair and he waits with his eyes closed, hands folded on his lap. He waits with the stillness I’ve learned to perceive as deep thought.

To Regis’ right, the next chair sits empty. Nyx is still out searching, even though Cor called him back. Likely, the young captain will be out until Cor goes to fetch him in person; commands from afar seem to become suggestions for the young captain, especially when he disagrees with the orders being given.

The guards shut the hefty doors to the meeting chamber, and Regis takes a moment- a long, hushed, sigh- before opening his eyes and scanning the room. I know the King’s eyes to be green, but in the dim, they glimmer so dark they appear as obsidian pools outlined by the faintest shards of red. He turns to face Captain Naara, Regis’ simple crown of pointed antlers over his ear shining faintly.

Naara, a young member of the Crownsglaive with long, braided, cinnamon-black hair and blue highlights in her black garb, gives him a nod. She’ll be leading the investigation for Prince Noctis directly under Cor’s supervision. I’ve never met her before, but I’m aware that she has a background in criminal investigations from before she joined the glaive.

Regis speaks with a slowness unlike his normal crisp and lofty tone, “what do we know of my son’s whereabouts?”

Naara dips her posture slightly, straightens, and reports: “we’ve tentatively ruled out a kidnapping by Niflheim. The glaives in the citadel last night didn’t report anything suspicious; nor have the glaives on the wall seen anyone of suspicion in the past fortnight. At the moment, we’re looking at Prince Noctis’ disappearance as his own choice. From what we can tell, he was alone when he left. Once he reached the river, he may have joined up with others. We’re still looking into that. For now…” she gestures for three of her team members to come forward. “We found these hidden in his room. We think they’re related to the current events, although we’ve waited to open them in case they’re bound by magic.”

I’m presented with a letter in a folded rectangular envelope. It has my name, simply _Ignis_ , on the front and nothing on the back. Prompto and Gladio receive similar letters. Naara presents Gladio with a letter opener, prompting, “if you would.”

What she did report sounds so small after a whole day of searching. Regis doesn’t seem bothered, his eyes on the letters with what I think to be disbelief in his eyes.

Gladio cuts the paper in a deft stroke before handing the knife off to me. In the glance we share, I see his worry. He does not like this.

The Kingsglaive around us keep somber expressions, their eyes keen. Naara keeps her face relaxed. King Regis’ lip twitches and he moves his hands lightly in thought, his sole ring glinting momentarily.

I pass the knife on to Prompto- I pray to the Astrals that he knows how to open a letter- before turning back to Gladio.

In the glance I give to his paper, unfolded along neat crease-lines, the paper appears blank. A spell: the ink only visible to the addressee. Although, I was unaware Noct knew how to cast such precise magic.

He notes, “It’s obviously Noctis’ handwriting.” Then clears his throat and reads: “Dear Gladio,

> “I’m sorry to have left so abruptly. I’ve enjoyed our training sessions in the past months, and I do not mean to offend you nor make you think that you’ve pushed me to leaving. I’ve been thinking about this for a while now and hope that you understand. Please do not come after me, I know it will be strange without me, but the Citadel will be better off this way. I know that your strength will be needed in the Citadel and that you will find a place there. If my father will allow it, I would like for you to work alongside him in the Niflheim crisis. You are already more than what is required of a shield. Your strength has helped me in more ways than one and I thank you for that.

> Thank you,
> 
> Noctis.”

He’s gone?

He’s gone.

Noct’s gone.

He left on his own.

This was _planned._

Regis holds himself stiffly and Gladio holds the letter out from himself as if he does not believe it to be real; as if it may shatter into oblivion if he pulls it too close to reality.

Gladio continues, “Your Majesty, I knew nothing of this, I promise.” He has a twitch about him.

Regis pats the air in his direction, “it’s alright. I don’t believe any of you did. Ignis, if you would.” He makes eye contact with me. His eyes burn red at the fringes and his face contorts into lines of tension.

I clear my throat, “Dear Ignis,

> “I’m sorry to have left so soon. We have not even passed the halfway point to Damarick’s _War of the Ages_. Please know that I leave not because of the length of the volumes you have forced me to read. I chose this path long before and have been mulling over it for a while. I’ve deeply appreciated your guidance in these past years.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Noctis.”

I put the letter down. It pulls at me strangely, a feeling I have not felt in a long time. Gladio’s letter was longer. He’s not telling me something.

I narrow my eyes. I spoke with him only yesterday to try and get him to cooperate with me on the wedding plans.

He did not seem very thankful of my guidance then.

Prompto quivers next to me, clearing him throat. He shifts again, his hands fingering the corners of the paper. Red stains his eyes. He’s already read his.

When he speaks, his voice cracks as if it were a desert holding back the rain: “Dear Prompto,

> “I’m sorry to leave this way. Understand that I could not formally announce my leave, for my father and the glaive would have stopped me. You have been a dear friend in the past few years; know that I will not forget you.
> 
> “I have not signed the paperwork entering you into the Kingsglaive because I want you to work there but because I want you to have that option. Should you wish to go elsewhere, I will not be angered nor disappointed. Should you choose to stay, have a word with Gladio and Ignis. They will not understand.
> 
> Best of wishes and goodbye,
> 
> Noctis.”

Prompto struggles to swallow. He puts down his card and wipes his eyes with the back of a glove. He goes still, as if to concentrate on the wooden table with all his might.

Naara summons the attention back to herself, “These were found in Noctis’ room. They were each hidden, one in his bookshelf, another in a sword sheath and the last in a videogame case.” She turns to the others in the room, “have any of you received word, written or verbal, or know anyone else he might have contacted?”

The room goes silent. Regis’ eyes narrow, although he does not look around him.

Cor puts in, “what we have doesn’t lead us very far.”

Naara continues, addressing Gladio, Prompto and I: “I will need to interview each of you. We’ll need to see if there’s any hint of where he might have gone. In the meantime, the engineers are working on tracing Noct’s cellphone to determine where he went during the past several weeks. If he really did plan this, he would have scouted areas out ahead of time.”

She doesn’t speak like a high-born.

Regis shifts, “Cor, tell Nyx to bring his glaive down from the wall. We’ll continue searching the city on foot. He can’t have gone far.”

Cod nods sharply.

Regis addresses us three, “you know him best. I trust you can lead a search party of your own.”

Gladio and I give a little nod, nearly speaking in unison as we agree.

Cor addresses the whole room, “this information should not leave this room. Should Niflheim learn of Prince Noctis’s disappearance they would be at our doorstep tomorrow to collect him.”

Regis nods slowly, the thought seemingly already rooted in his mind, and the action more of an unconscious action as his hands intertwine in thought.

“If it is any reassurance, he certainly left armed,” Gladio puts in.

“Doesn’t matter how many daggers he has if he’s pursued by a hundred.” Cor responds, his voice like ragged pavement: ready to shear the skin off kneecaps should anyone take him lightly.

“Enough,” Regis commands. “Leave us.”

We stand along with the majority of the glaives. Cor remains seated beside his king. We leave our letters at a small gesture from Naara. She gives us a terse smile as she reaches to collect them for Regis, who twitches an eye ever so slightly at the letters.

We exit in large company, the guards shutting the heavy, gilded doors behind us with the clack of a metallic lock. Prompto and Gladio walk at my sides. Prompto seems to have settled a little, his stride tense, but his eyes level. I lead them upstairs, back to Noct’s room where we might start a proper search. We’ll find him. Find him even if it takes all night.

The further we go, the quieter the halls become. Very quickly, we are alone. Names pour through my mind. We’ll need to break up Nyx’s glaive unit in order to search the whole city. For now, we’ll start again at the Citadel.

Gladio rumbles, “we should call it for tonight. If he doesn’t want to be found, he certainly won’t let us catch him. Knowing Noct, he’ll return on his own once he grows tired of hiding.”

I bite back, “nonsense. The longer he draws this out, the worse it’ll be for everyone.”

The both of them stay silent for the rest of the journey.

No guard stands at Noct’s door, rather, it’s locked. I take out my keys and open the door, flipping the lights on once inside. Everything’s been put back as it was by the investigators. The idea was that if Noct returned on his own, it wouldn’t appear that his room had been raided in his absence. We’ll have to go through it again on our own, then put it all back, just in case. It’s unlikely he’s left anything else in here for us, it’s what’s _not_ here that’s important. What did he bring with him? The investigating team wouldn’t have known what was gone, only what they could see.

Gladio moves to stand in front of the tv and investigates its dark screen with his eyes. When he turns to me, his brow has furrows. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to search through his things. Having planned this, he would have brought tools with him to hide out in the city.”

Gladio nods slowly, crossing his arms, “do we know what he owned?”

I don’t. I should. I should have been watching him. I should-

Prompto sits down on the bed in a huff, putting his face into his hands. Gladio turns to him and encourages: “it’s not bedtime yet. Noct won’t come back to us dozin’ will he?”

Our younger companion stays as he is, running his hands though his hair once. He returns to his starting position and stays silent. I step forward and place a hand on his shoulder, curling my fingers slightly over the crest of his shoulder. He shudders, his ruffled hair falling into a disheveled mess.

“He’s not coming back,” he says weakly, voice strained. Before I can answer, he chokes, and I see a tear run down from between his fingers, coming to rest on his knuckle.

I look to Gladio, who gestures with his head for us to leave. I give him a nod. “Prompto,” I start, trying to keep my voice light, “Gladio and I can keep looking. You don’t need to be here, it’s alright.” He touches my hand with shaking fingers, then goes back to holding his face, trembling, trying not to fall apart.

We’ll keep looking for hints, elsewhere for the moment. Prompto can join us tomorrow… if Noct hasn’t been found by then.

**Chapter 5: Words of Parting**


	6. Chapter 6

~Noctis~

At daybreak, I sit up and eye the sun on the horizon. The young light across the barren landscape turns the ground to gold. It almost looks pretty.

I lie back down and pull the hood of my sleeping bag over my head.

~o0o~

When my stomach grumbles and the air has heated enough for my sleeping bag to become clammy, I uncurl myself and start to pack up.

When I made camp (, _camp_ being a sleeping bag on the ground,) I’d positioned myself to be in the shade of a towering cactus. Now, I’m directly in the sun’s path and it is _hot_. The air here isn’t like the city though, there’s no humidity to it. In a sad sort of way, I figure that means there’s no fishing spots nearby.

Potentially more importantly is that I’m low on drinking water.

Rolling up my sleeping bag, I buckle it to the bottom of my backpack before leaning the whole thing against a rock. Feeling more awake, I stand to scan the horizon for movement. The gleam of the sun has lost its dazzling effect, leaving everything a dull brown. Some green pokes up in cracks and bumps in the landscape. In the southwest, more vegetation speckles the barren landscape. Hammerhead’s that way. _I’m_ headed that way.

I’ve taken the long way around, traversing the desert rather than risking the road. Two full days have passed since I left, and I plan on not entering Hammerhead until tomorrow. Only now do I head towards civilization because I need water, and maybe… some food that isn’t pre-packaged. With a huff, I sit down, and- having not seen anyone to witness me- pull an energy bar from the void. They’re filling, but not… tasteful? It’s not that I don’t like the taste, it’s just consistent in a boring way. I miss the crunch of a vegetable or the hot touch of a spiced curry.

Never thought I would crave a vegetable.

Didn’t think I’d already be yearning for the way things were.

I eat my breakfast in silence, considering.

I should have stayed. It was wrong to run. I should have announced my leave. Made sure they knew why I was leaving. Made sure the city understood that I left so that they might find a king fit for the role. Made sure that my father knew I would never agree to marry Lunafreya, not because there’s anything wrong with her, but because I’d be trapped forever in that relationship, doomed to misery till the end of my days. Doomed to smile and wave and pretend that we love one another so that our cities can join forces under the banner of marriage. I know people have married for politics in the past, and that I’m no newcomer to this game, but I also know of a lot of miserable people in that group. I don’t plan on joining their ranks.

Let the Crown work out their own problems. No need for people to get married.

Except, had I announced my leave, my father would have locked me down.

Had I stayed, there would only have been disappointment.

When my father’s eyes would turn to me, he would always look down. The marriage would bring peace because he thought I couldn’t fight my way to freedom. Because I spent three years paralyzed in a wheelchair. Because even after healing, my father says I can never overcome my injuries. Because using me to make a truce is the best use he can find for me.

In a strange way, I fall back on the advice Drautos gave me years ago. Out of all my father’s advisors, he seemed the most devoted to helping me succeed. After his death, I spent a long time wondering how much of his advice was genuine and how much was to misdirect me. Even now, I don’t know if he secretly wanted me to succeed in life. Except, he’s dead now, sunk to the bottom of the sea so that Niflheim can never give him a real burial

But, Drautos would approve of me leaving. All his pleads to my father to get me to leave the city- expand my horizons, learn about my people- have since been labeled as ploys to get me away from the protection of the glaive. Except, his arguments made sense, and I stand by them, although I don’t plan on getting killed in the end. How would I rule without knowing what Eos looks like? How could I sympathize with civilians who’ve lost their homes when I have not seen any destruction myself?

He told me that I would ‘need to find my own happiness, for a king’s mood reflects his kingdom and his people’.

And I don’t wish for misery upon the people of Insomnia.

I stand, collect my bag, and start walking.

I throw my wrapper into the void to be properly disposed of later.

Under the sun, the sand reflects back the scowling face of my father. He told me to walk tall, to be a good King, to be a good husband. Pity you have to be someone else to rule. Pity he should never know who I am.

~o0o~

The sun arcs low in the sky, the buzzards doing one last scan of the horizon before returning to their roosts. Below me, Hammerhead glimmers pale in the fading sun. It’s smaller than I thought it would be. From the ridge, I can see a car garage, diner and camper all connected to one small parking lot. It’s literally just a rest stop. Had I stayed aboard the delivery truck, we surely would have stopped here day one into my travels. I nearly regret ditching my ride.

The hike didn’t seem worth the view.

Sitting down, I put my pack next to me and pull out my water bottle to sip from. I’m nearly out. I haven’t much gil on me, but water ought to be free. If not, I’ve read that outside the city people can hunt for food or monsters in exchange for gil or resources. Might give that a try. Before I left, I looked into joining The Hunters: monster-hunters who keep the peace outside the city. The monsters have been increasing in numbers ever since my father eradicated the daemons several years ago. One threat gone, another grows stronger.

Luckily, I haven’t run across any monsters yet. Seeing them on the rises in the distance has been enough for me. Considering the distance I travelled, the creatures don’t appear too great in numbers, just powerful enough for one to become a problem. Small varmints shouldn’t be too difficult to deal with; I’ve had plenty of practice with the spiderlings left over from the ariadne that snuck into the city last year. Larger beasts I can avoid.

My leg hasn’t even started to bother me.

In the distance, car head-beams crest over the horizon. It’s coming from Insomnia. Looking back at Hammerhead and seeing nothing of note aside from two old parked cars in front of the garage, I get up and back away from the ledge. I’ll go around and get a better view tonight. For now, I don’t want to talk to anyone, let alone put on a disguise to do so.

Gladio and Ignis have been pressing for me to talk with them since the night following my leave. I can feel their letters in the void, the paper pressed up against the barriers I’ve placed around my belongings. If Regis had any involvement with the letters, there’ll be tracking spells on them, although my father has yet to send me anything himself yet. I wonder if that means he read my letter or not; hard to say. At least he hasn’t tried to access my void himself yet. Ignis and Gladio could try and poke at my belongings through the void, but I’ve stashed my possessions where they could never reach them. However, my father could attempt to rip through my barriers if he can locate them.

As I descend the slope away from Hammerhead, pack bumping against my moist backside, I wonder if my friends will consider coming after me. I hope not. I told them not to. Gladio certainly will try, and Ignis… he’d come along too, dragging my father’s command with him. And Prompto….

I wish I could talk to him again. To apologize.

And to see him again.

##### Chapter 6: Shadow of Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the beta-read chapters. Thanks again to gkmoberg1 on ff-net!


	7. Chapter 7

~Prompto~

Nyx didn’t find him today.

Today was all meetings. The investigation crew wanted my complete alibi for the seven days before Noct’s disappearance. And just when I thought they had all the details, they rotated interviewers and switched to asking about certain topics: the wedding, mental states, Noct’s interests. I told them everything. The fishing, the sneaking out, Noct’s stash of snacks he kept in the void. Anything that might help. Everything except the promises I swore to never, _never,_ tell.

It was a long day.

I enter my apartment with heavy steps.

Without turning on the lights, I shut the door behind me and work on unlacing my boots in the dark. Now in the Kingsglaive, I wear the blacks and greys befit of the kingdom’s and Noct’s protectors; all the harder to see my shoelaces in the dark. My fingers fumble until I force myself to slow down.

Shoes off, I stride through the darkness of the kitchen and into the measly-sized living and dining space. A closed window overlooks the edge of the city, the barrier around the Crown City iridescent over the slabs of grey buildings. Skyscrapers loom upwards as if to brush the domed shield, falling short and instead only pointing upwards to the starless, smog-filled sky.

We’re to search the city again tomorrow. I look down into the back alley my window directly oversees. No one’s there. Noct wouldn’t be there anyways. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t. I know that much.

A chilled breeze reminds me of the window in my bedroom, and I look around myself sheepishly. The furniture sits untouched and no figure stands in the corner (, _that_ would be creepy). Moving away from the window, I enter my bedroom and flip the lights on. The eggshell white walls bounce back the light dimly around the empty room.

Well, not _empty_. All my stuff’s here: the bed made with a chocobo bedspread, the bookshelf stacked top to bottom with pictures, video games and the odd book. There’s the chair in the corner so packed with stuff that the chair itself isn’t visible. My weights rest tucked under the bed haphazardly and the only clear floor spaces form a jagged path from the bed to the door. I’ve got laundry everywhere, some of it clean, some of it dirty; I know which is which (mostly). A single window lets in air from the wall opposite the wall my bed’s pressed against.

No Noct here.

I approach the rectangular opening and poke my head outside. Cool wind blows through my hair. There’s no screen, rather, it’s propped up on the floor against the wall next to me. Outside, the air smells mildly of rotting trash and fresh laundry; truly a strange smell. I pull my head back in.

I sigh and put my hands into my pockets, considering.

Noct knows where I live… I thought maybe he would stop by and say… something; anything. He wouldn’t leave without a word, right? Sure, he left those letters, but….

I keep watch out the window until my phone dings.

I switch my hands to my jacket pockets and pull out my phone. It’s the group chat with the three of us. Ignis writes: _‘meet outside the citadel tomorrow. We’re searching by the coast in the morning then meeting with the investigation team plus Regis and co in the afternoon.’_

I sigh. I don’t _want_ to look for Noct. I want this to be _over_.

Backing up, I sit on the bed, holding my phone in my lap with both hands. The screen fades to black.

Until Noct comes home, we’ll keep looking. Day in and out. The whole citadel. Except, now, with the night sky reverberating the hum of air conditioners and car engines, I’m just _tired._ On my own, I would walk the whole city to find Noct, but this? The meetings, organized search, backtracking, protocol, directions and the hubbub of the Citadel, it’s all too much. Doesn’t Noct feel the same way? With all the glaive hunting for his tail? Come _out_ , Noct. _Please._

A real Prince gets no days off, Ignis told me once.

What if Noct feels the opposite then? Noct’s just resting. Because normally he would spend every day attending meetings, reading charts, presenting ideas, listening to diplomats, yadda yadda. Maybe he needed a break.

I close my eyes.

On multiple occasions, Noct would walk the Citadel with me between our separate sessions with advisors and glaives, respectively. With increasing frequency, he would tell me about his father refusing to hear him our about leaving. The reasons to continue rising to the throne dwindled rapidly post high-school. Once Noct realized his coming responsibilities, he started to back away. I’m fuzzy on the complete list of reasons he wanted to decline the position, but front and foremost burned the distain for dealing with diplomats, advisors and generals every day of life henceforth until death. Dealing with others never did settle too well with Noct. Once the wedding was agreed upon by Regis and Tenebrae, Noct only spoke with his father when he had to, which seemed to make matters exponentially worse.

He just didn’t want to be the King, and no one wouldn’t listen. And guess what, Noct’s flipped that on us, refusing to read the letters Gladio and Iggy sent yesterday and the night before. Shocker even when Ignis responded in the same, irritated disappointment as Noct would when he found his audience unwilling to offer an ear.

Flopping back, I check that my alarm’s set.

I need to shower.

~o0o~

_I’m outside, waiting and scrolling slowly through my phone to pass the time. The shade thrown by the nearby stone sculpture shades me. We call the place ‘Stone Dog’ because the statue-man has a regal dog at his feet, a big, fluffy creature with a puffed-up chest and wolfishly large paws. The square stone podium comes up to my neck and the dog’s snout is higher up than my head. I keep myself in front of the dog, so that her paws nearly rest on my shoulders_

_But I’m not here for Stone Dog. Stone Dog is only the meeting place for adventuring, not adventure itself._

_For now, however, I’m entertaining myself with information on fishing in Altissia. I told Noct yesterday to try and find something good in his arranged marriage. Finding a map and detailed list of all the fishing locations and fish species in the foreign city was not what I expected. Noct’s full of silly surprises like that._

_“You look busy.”_

_I look up, and answer with a turn of my phone to show the picture, “reading about kaluga.”_

_“… No one’s seen one of those in years.” Noct crosses his arms._

_He’s wearing black today with silver highlights in his t-shirt and pants. Vine-like silver stripes dance around the edges of the sleeves and the base of the shirt. His pants have silver thread in the seams of the pockets interlaced with dancing swirls that go down either side of his legs. He’s got silver in his hair too, a string that ties his black hair back and out of his face. Relaxed on his nose, he wears sunglasses, the somewhat transparent kind where I can still see his eyes._

_I feel bouncy. I take my feet and ground them firmly._

_“Never know, I might be the first!” I tell him, sliding my phone away and pushing myself away from Stone Dog. “Where to today?”_

_Noct answers simply, his voice betraying nothing, “the bridge on twelfth street.”_

_“Lead on,” I gesture with a little bow and swing of my arm, palm open in full mock mannerism to show to the princeling. I hold back on being completely dramatic. I want to ruffle his hair; to offer him an outstretched hand; to walk close enough to him that he can feel my thoughts through my skin._

_He cuffs me over the head and marches onward, looking back slightly to make sure I follow. I readjust my pack over my shoulders as I start to move._

_We exit the park together, passing through the open black fence and crossing the open pavement where vendors set up shop on the weekends. The buildings loom around us, bright silvers, blues and neon highlights in the afternoon light. People mill about us, on their way home from work, jogging, sightseeing and otherwise moving about. Those that glance our way might give a little smile or nod. We’re dressed in the glaive attire and people treat us so. If anyone recognizes their prince, they don’t show it. He doesn’t make many public appearances now that school’s over, and even back then, most didn’t recognize him._

_There’s two rivers in Insomnia which allow fishing. We head towards the one further from the Citadel. Noct walks with a purpose, eyes forward and shoulders square. He’s upset. I consider asking him but hold my tongue._

_We pass into shadow. The buildings grow fatter and shorter by the water. At its edge, some of the buildings lean over the water with arched bridges where people work or cross overtop the water. Noct picks a spot by one of the footpaths leading to a bridge, the stairs rickety and uneven. We descend together to the platform by the water and walk to the end nearest the people-overpass. At the other end of the platform another man sits on an upside-down bucket and idly watches the shadowy water._

_The man isn’t looking our way and the people above can’t see us without peering right over the brick railing. Those across the channel can see us, but they don’t look our way. Noct observes this with me, his eyes scanning the people even as he pulls his fishing rod from the void. It materializes into his hand with a few lingering strands of electric blue that evaporate into the air soundlessly._

_Nothing bad would happen if anyone saw the trick, it just bothers Noct when people stare._

_He looks me in the eye, his own eyes smiling. “Ready?” he asks._

_“Cast away,” I wave him off with a hand and plop down on the wooden docks. It smells like fish here._

_I pull my notebook from my pack. We learned about some old Lucian kings and queens today. Better at least try and memorize some of their names… and maybe why they’re important. Noct takes to standing next to me, fiddling around with the line and his gear. He’s not within an arm’s reach, keeping far enough away that it would at least be unlikely for him to snag me with his line and hook. He’s always careful though, keeping a lookout for the people walking about and me._

_After a good while, once Noct has taken a seat on an upturned wooden milk crate, and I’ve exhausted my attention for words, I move back against the wall, pull my legs up to my chest and rest my cheek on my arms._

_Sideways and from behind, Noct still seems upset. That gnaws at my belly. He won’t talk now with the other fisherman nearby. If photography has taught me anything, patience is a well-rewarding virtue, and Noct is one worth waiting for. I bide my time and blink slowly, waiting. I shift, throwing my arm across my opposite shoulder and resting my chin in the nook of my elbow._

_Even with my eyes closed, I feel Noct’s presence, cool as frost on the skyscrapers at dawn. It’s comforting._

_~o0o~_

_“Hey.”_

_“Hmm?” I look around sharply. It’s darker out now. I zonked out a good while._

_Noct sits down beside me, close enough for our shoulders to brush. I unfurl myself a little and cast some slower glances around, noting the absence of both Noct’s fishing gear and the other fisherman._

_“Sorry about that,” Noct says softly, in a sort of gruff way, his voice hushed._

_“Nah, it’s all good,” I tell him, noting the stiffness in my neck as I roll a shoulder in a stretch. I have training tomorrow too._

_Noct huffs, as if bemused. I turn to look at him, not dead-on, but enough to see his face. All at once, I feel his presence, so very close to me, nearly overwhelming. He has his sunglasses on his head, hair twisted by the damp air. He blinks slowly, gazing off, his eyes the blue of the sky at noon. I ‘hmm’ at him._

_My innards turn to mush and I put my cheek back on my knees to look at him sideways._

_Why sideways?_

_I dunno._

_Noct turns back to me, forming a smile. He rolls his eyes._

_Sometimes I think he knows, other times, I’m not so sure._

_“What’chu thinking about?” I ask him._

_He leans back, resting his head against the wall, “I talked with my dad today,” he says. “I reminded him that I’m ready to find a replacement for the ‘prince’ position.”_

_“And?”_

_“He didn’t like the idea much.” There’s icy daggers in his voice._

_“Well,” I say, straightening up, “sounds like we need a better plan for you.”_

_“Thanks.” Noct ends._

_I keep going, “I say we take your dad to a chocobo race and we sneak you into the competition. When you win, he’ll HAVE to reconsider. You could be a chocobo racer instead!”_

_Noct scoffs, “and where_ _are we going to find a_ chocobo _race?”_

_“Not here, obviously.... We can all take a field trip together! Go out and see the world, go talk to your subjects or whatever. It’s been forever since your dad left the city.”_

_Noct pats me on the knee, “Thanks Prompt, but no.”_

_His touch is firm._

_“I’ll figure something out,” I tell him, and I mean it. It’s not just for jokes. He deserves some freedom._

_Noct keeps talking, “I have a plan.” His voice comes out as softer than before, almost like a secret between him and the wind. I turn, eyes wide, ready. He smiles, “it’s a surprise.”_

_“… A_ good _surprise?”_

_“We’ll see.”_

~o0o~

“WAR WARK WARK WARK!!!”

Spinning, I flip my alarm off. The chocobo calls hush.

Heart racing, my eyes dart around the room until I recognize it as _my_ room. I’m in bed, wearing yesterday’s clothes. Flopping back down, I pull the pillow in front of me closer. It’s warm.

I need to get up. Go to work.

Cold dread grips my innards. I should have _known._ Noct gave me so many hints. I should’ve pressed him, choked the truth out from him. Something. Anything to avoid _this_.

He must think I’m an idiot. I let him wander off into who-knows-where without batting an eye.

Tears tickle my eyes, and I rub my face into my pillow.

I wish it were Noct I could hold tight. His hair would smell like the wind by the ocean. I could press my face to his neck and kiss him by his ear. He knew. He _knew._ And never once did he make to stop me or indicate that I was out of line. Time and time again, I gave hints, as many as I could bear. During one of our video game sessions, I dropped that I was bi, and he’d taken that with quiet consideration, glancing at me with a look that read: _‘I know it, dumbass’._

At points he would do silly little things: lead me to parts of the Citadel to show me where the sunset would dance across the city horizon, asking if I wanted to photograph it; finding wristbands to match my t-shirts; my preferred snacks finding a place tucked into the void. And maybe that’s something that friends do, but _Astrals_ do I wish he would have told me. Sometimes his eyes would dance. Sometimes his laugh ended in a smile and a gaze that burned with a steady gentleness that must have _meant_ something.

I should have spoken up. I was afraid he would turn me away, but then at least I would _know._ At least I might be able to understand _why_ he never shot me down. I’ll apologize when we find him. I need to know.

What if he’s mad at me? What if I didn’t notice s-

My phone dings. It’s Ignis. I don’t want to look.

I don’t want to. But I have to.

I roll back over and check the time, or rather, I try to. I wipe my face with my hand and try again. It’s 06:13. Too early to do anything. I put my phone on my chest.

Ignis can wait.

I hug my pillow tightly.

Casting a slow look around the room, I stop to gaze at Noct’s jacket, actually hanging up on one of my wall hooks. He said he’d leave it here, in case he ever needed it to get home when the city gets chilly after the sun sets. He could have put it into the void. He didn’t need to leave me anything. He didn’t need to promise anything.

Where’d all the promises go? Why leave? Why didn’t he _tell_ me?

(Why didn’t I _ask_?)

##### Chapter 7: Night, Alone  



	8. Chapter 8

~ Gladiolus~

The pigeons coo and flutter with clapping wings around the parking garage. I’m up on the second level, high enough to look down to see the pedestrians, but not nearly high enough to not be completely dwarfed by the skyscrapers. It’s dim here in the shadow of the Citadel, nearly cool with the aid of a breeze.

Ignis and Prompto haven’t shown yet. Most probably because I’m early. Once we all get here, we’ll take off for a small sweep of the city. Yesterday, Nyx pulled most of his team back up the wall, arguing, “as long as Niflheim can’t get in, Noct will be safe with the rest of the citizens.” Without a doubt, he’s right. We’re still at war. We need our fighters on the wall. And glaives roaming the streets would draw suspicion too. The crowd we gathered at the river on that first day drew the attention of every radio station and newspaper in the city. Just the three of us will be discreet enough to bypass any more headlines.

Standing next to the car- the _Regalia-_ I have a moment of peace to think. Yesterday was all talk, interviews, recordings, meetings and patrolling the city questioning people. The Citadel has decided to pretend everything’s still normal for as long as possible. If Niflheim gets word of this their spies will be combing through the city by sunset. So far, it’s been four days of secrets. Four days of silence.

Four days with no word from Noct.

Ignis and I have written letters and stuck them in the void, pressing them out into the furthest corners we can reach, hoping that he’ll notice. Hoping that he’ll try to contact us. He hasn’t shown any indication of reaching beyond his own barriers in the void. I imagine that Regis will try and contact Noct in a similar manner, once he can locate Noct’s magic in the void.

Noct’s silence makes my skin itch.

Pink-cheeked doves murmur to one another above me.

I’ve been trying not to think too much recently. Better to wait and see what happens.

Ignis and I spoke last night. He’d donned the face of doom and gloom for the whole situation. The worst scenarios, with Noct being injured or dead, passed through Ignis’ lips in a fit of anger. I’m ready for that, should Noct end up becoming kidnapped and held prisoner somewhere, it’s my duty to bust in and get him out of trouble. I’m _The Shield to the PRINCE_ , not an investigator, not a worry-wort. I’m here to fight, to defend, but now what? I’ve lost the only person I swore to protect.

I’ve lost the only person who would think running is better than talking.

And I should have spoken up sooner.

I should have done more.

But what?

We don’t even know why he left yet. The wedding? Most probably. But….

Ignis approaches, his boots loud on the concrete. I turn halfway to greet him: “morning.”

“So much for being the first one here, what are you doing? There’s still fifteen minutes till we’re supposed to meet,” he calls out over the distance, lessening his voice as he draws near. He has the typical glaive attire, but this time with green highlights woven into his garb.

“Thinking, or rather, trying not to.”

“Hmm. Anything come to mind?”

Yes. I can feel the drooping in my arms, the missing person at my side. The practice, toil and sweat of the past five years being washed away. The importance of every interaction with Noct coming into focus as I realize I should have been paying more attention not to his skill with a sword, but what he actually wanted to _do_ with a sword, what _he_ was training for. Every stupid moment that I spent rolling my eyes and telling Iggy that this would be over soon, it’s just a phase. Every warning and jab from Noct that he despised when people turned to him for guidance on every matter under the sun; that he truly did not want to be the prince. Time that seemed to roll like water over rocks, but now in hindsight, the dam was broken, and the rocks were not to be taken lightly.

“No,” I answer.

Ignis tucks his thumbs into his pockets and looks out the open window with me. “What do you make of today’s meeting? It’ll be the second of these with the King present.”

“Regis doesn’t bother me, it’s the lack of information that’s getting to me. Where’s the intel? Don’t we have people working on that? Naara mentioned that they were tracking Noct’s past locations through his phone. What happened with that.?”

“I suspect that they know as much as we do. And yesterday I heard that the phone location was a bust: Noct kept his in the void nearly all the time; I’d forgotten about that.” He shifts his gaze to me, “most of them hadn’t even known Noct. They’ll be starting from the ground trying to map out his intentions. I expect we’ll be doing a lot of talking. The whole city’s been combed through. Wherever he is must be a good hideout. Luring him out might be the best bet at this point.”

“What, like a dog back to its kennel?”

“Hardly. Like wayward child.”

“Noct’s not one to return to a lost fight, not until he has the upper hand.”

“If he thinks he can get the wedding cancelled, he’s more a fool than I took him for.”

“He’s already tried the usual methods.”

“I think he lacks understanding in the term ‘arranged marriage’. For all his lordliness, this is one thing he can’t control.”

“Hmm,” I respond. Noct didn’t actually control much yet, and with the time he did have control over, he spent it playing video games in his room.

Ignis pulls out his phone and starts tapping away. He goes on: “our meeting’s being moved up. Nyx doesn’t think Noct’s in the city anymore. We need to start looking elsewhere.”

“He couldn’t have gotten out. The wall and bridge have guards on both ends, and Noct isn’t _that_ good.”

“I completely agree.”

I shift, “we’ll have to hear his reasoning.”

“Indeed,” Ignis says, distracted.

Sure, Nyx doesn’t know Noct all too well, but I have respect for the captain. He killed Drautos after all- after the man eluded detection for years under Regis’ watch. He runs on instincts, ones that do not seem to fail him.

My father died in Drautos’ attack. I owe Nyx for avenging him. I just don’t know how to repay that yet.

Prompto approaches, his footfalls light. I turn and greet him.

He looks ragged, like the streetlamps beat him up on the way over here. His eyes have shadows, and his hair looks a mess. He wears gloves, the fingerless type so he can feel the trigger move better. From a distance, I can see his fingertips pattering against his sides like a drummer before a concert.

He starts, voice bouncy, jagged around the edges, “Hey guys! You’re here early. Sorry I missed the party.”

“Hardly a partly,” I respond, “Iggy forgot the beer.”

“No alcohol at work, and besides, Prompto’s still a minor.” Ignis responds dryly. Iggy’s more of a wine guy too, and some of the high-end liquors. Too expensive for my taste.

Prompto laughs, rubbing the back of his head. He comes to stand so that the three of us form a small triangle beside the Regalia.

Ignis prompts, “how was your interview? They held you in there a long time.”

Prompto laughs again, a small, hitched thing. He looks down, shuffling his feet. “Well, I told them the lot of it. And I suppose you guys should hear it too.” He transitions, looking at us directly and moving around slightly, “see, Noct and I had some secrets.”

Ignis’ voice drops to ice, “and they have to do with him running away?”

Prompto waves his arms, “No, no, no- well, at least, not the ones _I’m_ aware of.”

Ignis looks about ready to speak again. I butt in: “go on.”

Wavering, he begins: “I used to sneak out of the Citadel with Noct. NOT to do anything stupid,” he tacks on, raising his hands, palms open, fingers spread. “Just to see the city. Noct wanted to see the place. We went fishing, looked at shops, that sort of stuff.”

Ignis adjusts his glasses, his lips pressed shut. I talk in his silence, “and you didn’t tell us this because…?”

“Noct didn’t want you guys to know. Sorry.” He sounds truly apologetic, returning his hands to his pockets and diverting his eyes downward, looking like a kicked dog.

Ignis has a brittleness to his voice that threatens to jab Prompto should Ignis take another step closer, “he would’ve known we’d put a stop to it. As one of his Kingsglaive, you should’ve done the same. Your job’s to _protect_ Noct, not escort him on escapades around the city.”

“If I didn’t go with him, he would’ve gone alone,” Prompto insists, although he does not meet Ignis’ gaze.

“That’s not what I asked,” Ignis snaps, sending Prompto back. “ _You_ at least should have known better. Noct’s always had his head in the clouds. You _live_ in the city. You knew what could’ve happened to him. Think, Prompto! There are gangs and spies creeping all over the city; what would you do if you were caught? Did you have a _plan_? Did _anyone_ know where you were? Did you even think?!”

“Evidently not,” Prompto bites back.

Ignis takes a step forward, Prompto takes one back.

I step between them, placing my hand on the flat of Ignis’ chest. “Stop it. He told us the truth.”

Ignis goes on, “there’s no brushing this off, Gladio. The Citadel won’t approve of this and neither will I.”

“Nothing we can do about that,” I tell him.

Ignis narrows his gaze. I push him off, very gently with the tips of my fingers and let my arm drop back to my side. He casts me a glance before continuing, “I suppose you’re right. What’s done is done. We’ll worry about the Citadel when we get there this afternoon.” Prompto swallow. “For now, anything else we should know?”

I add on, backing away, “any places he liked to go?”

“The river- the West river. To fish.”

“We’ll start there then,” Ignis says, moving further back so that the distance between the lot of us might be describable as ‘relaxed’ if not for the hair prickling on the back of my neck.

“And we went to a few shops around the city,” Prompto carries on, placing his gaze solidly on the floor. “He liked finding new music and games to add to his collection. Outdoorsy-places too, we went to a lot of bait and tackle kinda shops. Near the- when- before this all went down, we went to some tourist shops too. He got some maps there I think, although I’m not sure now.”

Ignis turns to face me, “Then Nyx might be right.”

Prompto flickers his gaze between both of us. I press, “anything else?”

He casts me a glance, his eyes searching my face, “I didn’t see him get anything else.”

“Anything at all.”

“Well… I don’t think so. I know he had gil. He kept it in the void. I just, didn’t see him buy things, except fishing gear. Nothing would’ve stopped him from going out on his own if he wanted.”

Ignis cuts in, “I thought you said you went with him s-”

“- I know. I just,” Prompto rubs a hand along the back of his neck. “He kept secrets from me too.”

“I suspect as much,” I put in before Ignis can go off again.

Sighing, Ignis leans back on his heels, moving his fingers to pull at his chin as if he wore a beard. We wait. Pigeons start to coo again in the silence, pattering around in the concrete support beams. At long last Iggy goes on, facing Prompto, his voice level now, “we went through Noct’s room. The investigating team too; they found nothing more, and we couldn’t find anything missing. Did you know what he owned?”

Prompto opens his mouth but says nothing. His eyebrows come to a furrow and he tilts his head to look at Iggy, “… no?”

I add on, “I know what blades he kept in the void. Do you know if he had any supplies in his possession?”

‘Supplies’ sounds funny on my tongue.

“He kept snacks on him,” Prompto offers.

Ignis cuts in again, “did he have a backup phone? Radio? Any means of contacting help?”

“No.”

“Did he ever meet with anyone when you snuck out?”

“No; we avoided most people, especially glaives.”

“And no one recognized him?” I ask.

“Noct would dress like a glaive. No one ever asked anything. Some people probably recognized him, but no one ever asked.”

Ignis and I share a long look. A Niflheim spy could have followed them. Average people? Probably not. Noct would have caught on. Prompto too. But, only a few spies have been caught since Drautos. ‘Caught’ being the keyword here. Could be more, we don’t know.

I ask, “how long were you sneaking around?”

Flinching, Prompto answers, “four months? Maybe?”

That would place them right before school ended. Around when Regis signed off on the wedding plans. Except, I don’t think Noct knew about the arrangement until after he graduated. But- the arrangement was made long before Regis told Noct. He could have found out through someone else. There must be some correlation there.

“Alright,” Ignis resolves, “let’s get going. We can talk on the way.” He puts his back to us and makes way to the opposite side of the Regalia, keys in hand.

“Although,” and now Prompto mainly speaks to me, his eyes lifted to meet mine, “I doubt he’s still in the city. If he didn’t want to be found, he would have made sure of it.”

“That’s what Nyx said too.” And if Nyx and Prompto agree on something… I’m not sure, that’s a strange combo.

I don’t want them to be right.

But I’m starting to believe them.

~o0o~

Ignis pulls up to the bay, rolling slowly as sightseers and workers cross the road without a glance to either side. The ocean rolls in the depths to our right, a good six-meter drop between us and high tide. Out in the ocean, the city wall strikes out of the water on pillars of grey stone. The blue shield around the city dips to touch its crest and the water on the other side. Niflheim once tried to use submergible ships to pass under the oceanic wall. Sometimes bits of metal still wash up on the sand from their attempt.

Ignis pulls into a parking spot, the city to our back, ocean in front of us. He gets out, already pulling out his ID to show to a guard hurrying over, probably to tell us we’re in restricted parking. Prompto sighs from the back seat, “bad day to be wearing black.”

It's our second stop of the day, and I’m also not entirely enthusiastic about walking around under the sun for another three hours.

When I get out of the car, the heat rolls over me in the exact inverse of opening the fridge in the middle of summer. The sun strikes down from the sky and off the water in a devastating fog of heat. I pull a pair of sunglasses from the void and adjust them on the bridge of my nose. “Better make it quick then,” I respond to Prompto, who’s gotten up but failed to move away from the car.

He waves a hand at the shoreline, “where do we start?”

I cast a look up and down the coast. There’s a mass of beachgoers on any and all bits of sand, lounging, walking or splashing in the water. On the rocky coast, further to the north, the beachgoers transition into patches of people fishing and walking carefully through the stones. I gesture up the coast, “we’ll start at the rocks.” Can’t imagine Noct sunbathing with the tourists.

I can’t imagine Noct popping up somewhere as crowded as this either, but there’s always hope.

We start walking along the paved path by the row of parked cars facing the sea. Ignis waves to us as we leave, still talking with a security officer, who seems to be answering questions rather than the other way round.

The buildings have dwindled to three-story shops, apartments and motels. Behind them, the city sprawls on, its shape wavering in the heat.

We walk in relative silence. The ocean pounds against the shore, and the endless talking of people on the sand and at the stores surrounds us. Prompto clears his throat and bounces a bit, “so, you guys aren’t… mad, are you?”

“No,” I answer, glancing at him, “although it would be nice if you let us know a little earlier next time.”

“Heh, well, y’know; didn’t want to upset Noct.”

“I’m sure we can catch the prince in a forgiving mood at some point this year.”

“Yeah…”.

“He asked you to keep it a secret?”

“Yeah. He told me not to tell anybody, including you guys. I figured he would be the one to tell you eventually- after he’d sorted things out.”

“Things?”

Prompto interlaces then dances his fingers around, “once he knew what he wanted to do about the wedding. And his dad. I tried to help but… he didn’t tell me everything. He didn’t tell me… about _this_ , although he certainly hinted that he had some great plan.”

“’Great’ would hardly describe it.”

He ‘hmmms’ to that, his attention drifting to the people fishing on the rocks up ahead. His eyes open wide behind his sunglasses, darting to and fro among the people. Noct’s not over there, we would recognize his silhouette in an instant.

I press, “did anyone ever follow you? Ever?”

“No.” He whips back to me, staring up at me as we walk, “I kept a lookout for that. Noct did too. Sometimes I think people recognized us, but they didn’t say anything; not to our faces at least.”

“Alright.” I believe him now, his eyes still wide. He didn’t lie. He wouldn’t.

The worst hasn’t happened- yet. Probably.

My phone dings. I read it out loud, “Ignis says to wait up.”

We stop and turn back, watching our third companion move towards us, his hands in his pockets, strides long. He starts talking after he’s stopped. Luckily there’s no one else on the sidewalk coming our way. “Prompto, you go off on your own. Gladio and I will follow. If what you say is true, and I don’t disbelieve you, then Noct might prefer to approach you over us. Hail us if you need backup. The signals:” he opens his right hand, palm up in the classic, ‘what/excuse me?’ manner.

“Right on it,” Prompto says, a smile growing on his face. He bounds off, full of energy enough for the three of us.

Ignis holds me back, watching Prompto go. I watch too, noting, “hope Noct approaches _him_. No way Prompt’s going to spy Noct at that pace.” I smile, bemused.

My hairs straighten as Ignis responds, his voice dipping to ice again, “we’d better hope Noct has a little sense left in him. Running off to go fishing? Who does that? And with _Prompto_ of all people. Astrals have mercy.”

“Nothing we can do about that now.” I feel like I’m repeating myself.

Iggy’s voice falls, “I wish he’d told us. Noct knew he could come to us. We’re his Kingsglaive not professional babysitters.”

“Regardless, that’s how we acted sometimes.”

“Because, as smart as he is, I swear he couldn’t tell right from wrong if it hit him over the head.”

“They’re seventeen,” I remind him. It feels silly. We’re twenty-one and -two, not really adults in this situation either. Maybe someone should’ve been overseeing us? I jump topics, “has Regis spoken with you recently?”

“No,” Ignis says, adjusting his glasses, “the last was a week ago when we were discussing the Altissia trip.” Ignis and the King used to meet on occasion to discuss ways to guide Noct. Ignis would typically update us in the group chat whenever they met.

“Let’s go,” Ignis says, starting to move after Prompto, who has become a plume of yellow hair in a crowd near some of the restaurants. It’s almost lunch, hence the all the people.

Ignis continues, “did Prompto mention anything else?”

“No.” I say, hurt a little to think that Prompto would tell something only to me and not Iggy. I’m glad he didn’t. “He said he knew something was up, but not what Noct’s plan was.”

“Let me know if he offers anything else. He’s still hiding something.”

I don’t argue with that, although, it’s more likely Prompto’s forgotten something rather than lie to us.

The three of us really need some down time to talk.

##### Chapter 8: Truth, revealed


	9. Chapter 9

~Noctis~

I’m up with the sun. My stomach churns and my throat runs dry. Hammerhead’s up ahead and I’m marching towards it, my shadow rearing off to my right like a stalker from a nightmare.

The outpost’s quiet. I cross the road, my boots _tap, tap, tap,_ tapping on the faded pavement. Across the double yellow line paling under the sun, I march. Across the bumpy tar, then onto the parking lot. The lot’s silent. The curved building labeled “Takka’s Pit Stop” in neon lettering glows faintly in the rising sunlight. To the right, a thin roof covers several gas pumps. Fans whirr along the side of the convenience store behind the pumps. Beyond that, double garage doors lead to darkness. Music plays faintly from the garage.

Last night cars filled the parking lot. People came in from the west, dressed as tourists. I didn’t think they were glaives, but I kept away all the same. Now, I guess I’ll find out. Either the locals will recognize me from the pictures, or not.

I veer to the right. A sign inside the diner reads in fuzzy, winding script ‘ _Open’_. The lights inside glow yellow faintly behind the glass exterior. I pull the door open with a gloved hand.

Inside, a man looks up, startled and jumps up a little, “good morning!” he calls out, his accent different from the capital’s. Slower, drawling.

His outline moves hazily. Reading glasses as a disguise might not have been the best idea.

“Hey,” I say, approaching, aware of the door shutting behind me. He doesn’t look threatening, and I try to relax. “Is there someplace here I could get water?”

“Water? Sure.” He offers an open hand, dropping the cloth he’d been holding. It lands in a lump on the countertop. He has dark skin, neatly trimmed nails and faint muscles under a white t-shirt and apron. He continues as I pass my empty water bottle to him from my pack, “where you headed?”

“Going sightseeing,” I respond, “anything good around here?”

“In Hammerhead?” He turns, raising his voice so I can hear, “there isn’t much. I suppose you could go look at the old mines, but there’s monsters out there. Daemons too sometimes, during the night. Some folks find the danger exciting. You’re not a hunter, are you?”

“What’s that?” I thought Regis eliminated them all.

“A hunter goes out and kills monsters for folks. I thought you might be one, my apologies.”

Not what I was asking for, but I can work with this. I take a seat at a bar stool, “are there monsters causing problems around here?”

He hands me back my bottle with a soft, “here ya go,” then answers, “nothing that troubles us, no.”

“You thought I was a hunter. Are you looking for one?”

“Yes. There’s a haven not too far from here where some wild peppers grow. Usually, I just get a hunter to collect some for me ‘round this time of year; not safe for regular folk to go walking through the desert, y’know.”

“Any Daemons out there?”

“No, not near Havens. They’re usually just out by the mines.”

“I’m not heading that way right now, but if I come back, I’ll pick your peppers up for you,” I offer.

“You’re not a hunter though,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I’m low on gil.”

He laughs, “alright then. You good with a sword?”

“I am.”

“Ah, good. I’m Takka by the way. What’s your name, kid?”

“Somniare.”

“Alright, Somniare, let me see how I can help.”

~o0o~

By noon I leave the diner with a map of the area and a small pendant on a thin leather bracelet- a gift from Takka that might help me fight off any wild animals I might meet. Running my index finger and thumb along its edge, I sense mild barrier magic in its core.

I try not to show it, but my legs tremble. Glancing up and down the street, I cross swiftly, hardly registering if or if not there are any cars coming until I’m in the middle of the road. Luckily, there aren’t. I keep my eyes forward, pulling my hat over my eyes and gathering my sunglasses from my pant pockets. Pocketing the reading glasses, I blink a few times as the world comes back into focus.

I don’t think he recognized me, but he will once the glaive comes. Obviously, they hadn’t arrived yet. Why not? I don’t know. Did they not think I would leave the city? Or did they pass by Hammerhead on their way to more likely destinations? Or perhaps Takka wasn’t present when they came by. It doesn’t really matter. I keep going, over the crest of sand pockmarked with dry blades of grass and scrubby vegetation. A literal tumbleweed rolls by in the distance.

Safely away, I glance back and see two cars in front of the repair shop. I don’t recognize them- although, the list of cars I would be able to identify is meager at best. A young woman with a bright yellow top talks expressively to a man clad in tourist clothes. I can’t hear the words from this distance.

I keep going.

Keep going.

Keep going until my shadow shortens and I remember to veer west if I hope to reach the end of the desert by tomorrow. I don’t have enough water to meander now. I only filled one bottle, thinking it would be suspicious if I walked in with all three; that would be too heavy for a traveler I’d thought. Now, I wish I’d carried all of them in. The two dry bottles wait in the void, crammed in with my other belongings. I can feel their emptiness in my chest- the weight of potential dehydration great.

Takka mentioned daemons. My father eradicated them by slaying Ardyn, the source of the starscourge. The ones who linger now dwell only in the depths of caves close to the core of the planet. I didn’t know they came to the surface. They would annihilate me if I encountered only one. Even Cor The Immortal would have difficulty against the big ones.

My boots shift the sand under my feet. I watch the ground ahead of me closely.

I hadn’t expected it to be so easy to get into the Hunters Organization. It seems it’s more of a volunteer-based group than I’d previously believed. At least I’ll be able to make some gil this way. When I get to Galdin Quay I can meet up with some hunters and become an official member. It’s not my life path, or, not yet at least, but it will keep me going.

I’m moving forwards. Going the right way.

Things’ll be alright.

Just gotta hurry. Can’t let them catch me now, not when things are going so well.

##### Chapter 9: Hammerhead


	10. Chapter 10

~Ignis~

All three of us sit together at the long, black marble table. It’s the second meeting of the day. The first consisting of nearly all the generals in the Crownsglaive as well as the whole of the Kingsglaive. Now, it’s just Cor, Nyx, Libertus, us three and the seven investigators leading the search.

Regis isn’t here yet and, in his absence, the investigators and Libertus chatter away. Nyx’s close friend laughs easily despite the circumstances.

Nyx, who did most of the talking in the last meeting, has his arms crossed over his chest and a contorted grimace on his face. As per usual, he’s dressed to outdo the rest of us. For the special occasion of not needing to patrol the wall, he’s put special care into styling his hair: his crisply short mohawk peaked upwards near the front and two small braids tucked around the cuff of his coat behind his left ear. If anything, the captain is known for his sense of worth as expressed by extensive time stylizing himself. Regis may be able to get his captain to bide his tongue at times, but no one has yet stopped him from dressing as he pleases.

Cor wears his normal bland work attire and a stone-stiff face. He hasn’t said anything yet today and doesn’t look poised to change his disposition any time soon.

Prompto shifts around to look behind us. He sits on the opposite side of Gladio and I’m glad there’s space between us: he’s been wiggling about all day, unable to sit still even for lunch. At least he’s silent now. I told him to not to utter a word if he can manage it during this session. Nyx will likely chew Prompto’s guts out once the captain learns of the deceit. Prompto deserves it, but not from Nyx.

Gladio casts me a glance, his eyes not nearly dilated enough for the dim lighting.

I don’t have time to figure out what me means to tell me because Regis walks in at that moment, leaning on his cane as he moves. Cor greets him and rises to help him get seated. Behind Regis, the doors shut with a grating clack.

Regis thanks Cor with genuine warmth in his voice before raising his voice to the rest of the table, “Naara, if you would, what’s the news on my son?”

Naara speaks with a definite layer of formality to her voice. Her emotions hidden away, she starts: “Yes, Your Majesty. My team and I have assembled a map of all the locations Prince Noctis has gone in the past month and a potential list of the things he might have brought with him. We now believe that The Prince has probably left the city, considering we have yet to find even a trace of him. I’ve sent two teams out of the city to look for him with instructions to offer him a ride home should they find him, and to pursue him from a distance should he refuse. We suspect he’s using his disappearance as a bargaining piece to cancel off his wedding.”

Nyx turns to Regis, commenting, “I told you he wouldn’t stick around.”

Regis waves for his young captain to hush and Naara continues: “his cell phone indicates that he spent most of his available time in the library and his bedroom, whenever possible. Unfortunately, he kept his phone hidden away most of the time.” She hurries on as Nyx opens his mouth. “However, Argentum generously handed over his phone to us during his interview after informing us he’d been accompanying Prince Noctis on secret trips outside the Citadel since just before graduation. The Prince seemingly did not inform anyone else of these escapades despite the potential dangers; neither did Argentum, who promised The Prince he would keep them a secret.”

Regis has his eyes narrowed to daggers as Naara pushes forwards. “His frequented locations outside the Citadel included multiple fishing outposts by the river, but on occasion he did enter several shops. We strongly suspect that he knew the city layout well enough to slip out and buy any equipment he might have needed prior to going into hiding. We’ve read through his transactions and didn’t find anything indicating he would leave. Interestingly, his last card purchase was almost two months ago. He very well may have purchased everything with gil. We strongly believe he did this to avoid leaving a paper trail.”

Naara taps at the screen embedded in the table and the table’s center lights up blue. The outlines of the city appear in thin cobalt lines. Wavering crimson lines appear between the buildings, starting and ending at the Citadel. Naara goes on, her voice bouncing off the table as she lights up one of the paths in yellow, “on The Prince’s last outing, five days before his departure, he took this route here. He ended up fishing along here after having walked up and down the water for about ten minutes. This is within fifty meters of where Argentum found The Prince’s phone. We suspect that on this outing, Prince Noctis used his time to secure a route to at least the river.

“The buildings along his path are all tall enough for him to warp-strike around without ever coming into contact with the ground, thereby missing security cameras and potential eye-witnesses. It’s likely that he walked along the water once he got here. At the city gates he probably left the ground again to either sneak abord a vehicle or scale the wall.

“All of this is still speculation right now, as we’ve yet to find any footage of him on any of our security cameras. We’re currently working with the glaives at Ostium Gorge to see if he passed through that way; they’ve been having trouble sending the tapes to us digitally and are driving the footage over presently. Nearly all the footage from the wall has been scanned, we’re just waiting on the reports from the sea gates on the eastern border. So far, there’s been no trace of him on the night he went missing, nor any of the following days.”

Regis shifts his fingers along his armrest, the movement stiff. His eyes shift over the display on the table. “And there’s still no sightings within the city?”

“No, the glaives haven’t found a trace yet. We have people on guard in the Citadel and on the streets. If he’s out there, he’s not outside. He could be indoors, living with someone else or hunkered down in a hotel, but considering his… distrust in strangers, we doubt it. And he probably doesn’t have much gil on him to stay elsewhere.”

Naara turns to one of her team members, a thin man with a bristly goatee. He speaks quickly, “I’ve been looking through his transactions- or lack thereof- and verbal reports of how much gil he had on him. Considering his amass of video games and reported fishing gear, along with minimal withdraws from his own account, I don’t think he could’ve had more than five-hundred gil on him when he left. That might get him a night or two at a hotel, but not much more after that. I’ve programmed warnings into his account so that if he finds a way to take out more gil, we’ll know about it; but, he left his cards in his room and unless he has a secret bank account- which we doubt-, he can’t take any more gil from his account right now.”

That sounds a terribly foolish plan, Noct.

Silence spans out for a moment before Naara adds in, her voice soft, “if he planned on leaving the city, he wouldn’t need much gil; food and lodging is much cheaper outside the walls; and work might be easier to find, if he planned on staying in hiding for a while.”

Nyx adds his thoughts again, “the Glaive avoids detection on occasion to follow suspects. It’s not impossible to cross the city without being noticed. To leave, though? That’s a bit trickier. Could he have had help?”

Naara shifts her gaze to Prompto, “We think he left alone. However, he could have met someone at the gate, but we’re out of people he knows who would have been there at the correct place and time to help him. To the best of our knowledge, he orchestrated this all on his own.”

Nyx follows her gaze and asks Prompto pointedly, “did you know anything about this?”

Gladio stiffens and Prompto speaks up, voice nearly hitching to a squeak, “no! He didn’t mention anything to me, except that he did have a plan of some sort.”

Nyx’s voice hardens, “and you didn’t think to ask him about it?”

Prompto raises his voice to the accusation, “of course I did. He didn’t tell me, and I didn’t to press him about it. He said it would be a ‘surprise’ and I-” he waves a hand through the air- “thought it would be a _good_ surprise.”

He needs to stop talking.

Nyx fixes a glare at Prompto. Gladio clears his throat and squares his shoulders, gruffly interrupting, “Noctis was obviously hiding something. We all noticed him acting differently, it just didn’t click with any of us. I was hoped he was changing for the better, or at least behaving himself to prime for asking about calling the wedding off in a more professional manner.”

Regis raises himself a little higher and the whole room shifts to face him, “Noctis knew that was off the table.”

Naara speaks again, “among those we’ve interviewed, we’ve identified that he wasn’t happy here and that he’d reportedly told his friends that he didn’t want to become king.” Regis scowls slightly and draws his hands into his lap. Naara continues, “however, since the wedding is the newest life event, we think that’s what might have pushed him over the edge. With any behavior shifts, we look at _when_ the shift occurred. He didn’t run away before he knew about the wedding- obviously, something about the deal bothered him.”

Cor adds his voice, speaking slowly, “considering that he hasn’t written to us yet to strike a deal, how do we know he intends on coming back.”

Naara answers, “we don’t know. But, considering how little he knows about life outside of the Citadel- and outside the city - it’s unlikely he would last long. He could be waiting for a public announcement to make his demands; if the people side with him, he might think he has the upper hand.”

I speak up now, “the Young Prince was hardly known for his forethought. He’s likely to have planned on not coming back, only to realize he doesn’t know the way home until after he gets into trouble.”

Cor jumps in, “I agree.”

Nyx sounds weary, “so we just wait around until he runs out of food? Then pick him up?”

I bite back, “No. Someone else would be just as likely to find him then.”

The table goes still momentarily.

Cor addresses Regis, “you should make a public announcement soon.”

Regis answers dryly, “I know. I’m working on one. Once I do, the glaive will need to switch to the defensive. Niflheim will be quick to react.”

Nyx gestures with his whole body, vaguely indicating the tabletop, “he isn’t in the city. The Glaive’s been looking for him day and night. Send his own kingsglaive to go look for him. They might have some luck at least and the rest of us can defend our people. Regardless of where Noct is, Niflheim has been planning something for a while now and we need to be ready _here_ and _now_. Another three airships passed through Leide just last night. Once they find out, they’ll be here in an instant.”

“Would The Prince have known about this?” Naara asks as Cor shoots a glare at Nyx. Military knowledge should not be spoken of so brashly.

Regis draws the attention back to himself. “He would have, yes. It had been our plan for Noctis to leave for Tenebrae in two months; the increasing presence of airships lead us to reconsider our departure time. However, as of yet, we’d yet to make a decision to postpone or advance the date.”

Nodding, Naara goes on, “if he knew about the ships, he might have been trying to use them as a distraction.”

“By putting himself in danger?” Nyx jabs.

Shifting his arms across his chest, Gladio grumbles, “sounds like Noct.”

For a split second, Nyx’s eyes glow a hum of magic as his face falls into a scowl. Rather than speaking out, he leans back and sighs, covering a hand over his face, pressing his fingers to lightly rub his eyes.

Silence spans the table for a moment. Scratching of pencil on paper burns at the edges of my senses as Naara jots something down. Eyes shift to Regis.

In his own time, Regis lifts his chin and speaks, his voice betraying no emotion, “I’d hoped to continue this search as long as possible, but this secret can only hold out a bit longer. As much as I love my son, the people must be a priority; we need to put them first.”

Regis’ eyes pass over the three of us and I feel as if Bahamut himself were casting judgement upon us. I straighten as Regis speaks, “once I make my address, the city will need to shut its gates for a while. Before that, any teams hoping to find my son outside the gates would need to already be out there. You would have the best luck; my son was not known for his openness around strangers. However,” and his eyes narrow, “The Crown will not dissolve the wedding arrangement.”

I respond, “he will not be easy to persuade, but we will bring him back, no matter what.”

Nyx nods sharply, “and we” – he gestures to himself and Libertus – “will keep searching the city, with as many glaives as we can spare. If anything, we might snag a few spies with the increased patrols.”

Cor shifts his eyes to rest on Nyx, his body remaining still. I know that the glaives will have few to spare once the truth comes out. Niflheim will be at our gate, any knave with a lick of daring will try and forge a ransom letter, and regular people will be sending in false Noct sightings daily. I expect a mess once the truth comes out. Cor probably suspects the same.

Blinking and sliding his hand over his armrest, Regis voices his decision, his voice reverberating across the room in fading echoes, “you will go then. My son, wayward though he may be, has the strength of kings in him. May you help him find his path again.”

“We will do all we can,” I speak for all of us, dipping my head.

Nyx gestures to the tabletop, “may I?” Naara nods and Nyx goes on to adjust the screen until a much larger map appears. Eos. Nyx zooms on Leide and the bridgeway to Insomnia. “Let’s plan you a route,” he says, leaning in, eyes reflecting the electric blue of the map.

Regis’ shadowed eyes catch mine. He gives me the smallest of nods.

There’s still more to know.

##### Chapter 10: The King’s Verdict


	11. Chapter 11

~Noctis~

The desert runs red and grey in the fading light. I’m in the Three Valleys, right under the shadow of one of the hills. The ground around me crumbles less like sand and more like dirt under my boots. Plants snag at my pants with their curling, dried, bone-like limbs.

For the past few hours, I’ve wanted to be long gone from this region. I’m sick of all this _sand_. Behind me, the wind whips up dirt to form a gritty multi-layered curtain between me and the eastern region of Leide. I don’t like the looks of it. I’m not prepared to get caught up in a sandstorm. I didn’t even know this region _had_ sandstorms.

Stopping, I look around, a slow, casual sweep of the hilltops. Not a soul in sight. Swinging my pack off my back, I toss it aside, cramming it into the void. I pull a knife out in its place, a long, slightly curved blade with a blue streak running down the side of the metal. The blade’s as long as my forearm with a balanced hilt excellent for throwing. Removing my singular sheath from the void, I attach the knife to my hip. Dusk envelops the hills.

I haven’t seen another living creature for a while now.

And it’s making me nervous.

Takka warned me of monsters that roamed the Three Valleys. They only come out at night. And ‘night’ isn’t too far off now. I still have another hour or so until I hit the woods. I’m close. Already, the vegetation has grown denser. Yet, I’ve not gone as far as I wanted to today. Walking cross-country didn’t seem too hard at first, but now, my legs ache and I just want to sleep. Or do literally anything else aside from move: read a book, check my phone, talk with somebody.

But those aren’t options anymore.

Ahead, there’s a leaning building. A barn. Behind it will be the road. Beyond that, hills coated in trees, although the light has dissolved the distance into murky blobs, and I cannot see the end anymore. Looking back to mark the distance of the storm, I figure I can make it out of the desert before it reaches me.

I’ll need to get used to moving greater distances in case the glaive spots me. I-

My hairs stand on end. “Hm?” I ask the dry wind, casting a glance around the sandy hills.

Nothing.

I shouldn’t have so readily accessed the void, somebody-

Humming fills the hills behind me, a great whirring of ten thousand office fans. Dropping to a crouch that makes my thighs twinge, I peer into the storm, hoping that the fading light will hide me from whatever’s out there. Louder and louder, the sound of chopping wind slices through the air. Could it be the sand? No, the storm’s still too far off. The plants around me only waver slightly.

A shadow passes through the grey, swirling clouds. Nearly high enough to stare evenly at a skyscraper, a blocky shadow emerges, then turns back just as quickly, the humming bending with it.

An airship.

Turning, I break into a run.

I should not have wandered. I should have been running.

They’ll find me. They’ll _catch_ me.

Soil slides under my boots, thorns ripping at the hem of my pants. Ahead, the decrepit barn grows no closer.

Whipping my blade from my hip, I throw it. Reaching out, I phase to the hilt, roll, then throw again. I need to go faster. Need to hide.

Should’ve brought a lance. Could’ve launched that further.

Shifting air brushes the back of my neck and I stop. Looking east, the ship passes in front of the storm again. I don’t recognize the design: a stocky rectangular vessel with nigh an insignia nor markings on its side. The hefty airship tilts a bit, turning on its axis.

It moves my way.

Shit.

_Run._

My legs move before I find my balance and I stagger, tripping over my own feet. I phase forward to realign myself and keep moving.

Should’ve brought a lance.

Instead, I heave my knife forward, watching it arc into the darkness. Wrenching through the void, I roll and keep running, the sand rushing around at the lash of a squall.

The barn’s ahead.

Astrals, don’t let me be spotted.

Hadn’t thought my dad would send an _airship_ after me.

I pull another knife from the void. If they want a fight, I’ll give them all I’ve got.

Heaving, my legs burn. Sand moves beneath me as if it were made of pudding. Time races, the storm gaining on me as I slow.

I need to save my magic for the fight. Need to save my _energy._

I _can’t._

My breath runs ragged, as if the air has turned to shards of glass.

I keep my eyes forward; keep my legs and arms moving.

Need to hide.

Need to get out of here.

When the barn draws close enough, I whip a knife at it. Hauling myself through the void, I land with my feet against the wall, holding myself up with the blade stuck into the wood. Turning back, I scan for the airship as my hair drips into my eyes, sticking to my skin.

Nothing in sight.

I look again, then again, passing my gaze across the sky and back. Only purple and black remain in the heavens, the storm obscuring any moonlight. Still nothing, even the sound of the engine seemingly gone; although, my heart hammers in my ears too loudly to listen for the drone of machinery.

Sending both knives back into the void, I drop to the ground, staggering when I land. I didn’t realize how high up I was. That could’ve been bad.

My shirt hugs my chest as I breathe. Need to keep going.

Passing around the tilting barn, I cast my eyes up and down the deserted road. Leaning into a jog, I press to make it into the forest. There’s nowhere to hide out here, and the barn would be too obvious a place to look.

Time seems to loop once I cross the road, the distance to the woods growing no closer as I travel. Darkness settles as the scrubby plants become bushes and patchy networks of ground cover. Sticks snap under my boots. Sand sticks to my face and I feel it coarsely coating the back of my neck and hair.

After a while, I can’t see the plants anymore, but I feel them ripping across my body as I move through them blindly.

At long last, I enter the woods, my breathing the only audible sound under the thin trees. I have no idea how long the trip took me. I just feel like death.

Stopping to look back before the vegetation becomes too thick to see the sky, I give a last scan.

A ship hovers before the storm, small in comparison to the vastness of Leide. It rests with unnatural stillness in the sky.

That’s not one of our ships.

I don’t know why I thought it would be.

It’s a Niflheim ship.

I let my shoulders sag.

Waiting, I plant my feet and stare up at the ship. They won’t be able to spot me now, in the pitch dark, under the trees. My skin crawls uneasily. Maybe that’s why the glaives hadn’t been to Hammerhead yet.

At least I don’t think they saw me before I entered the woods. The ships appears to be scanning, not pursuing. At least, its front isn’t pointed at me anymore.

Turning my back, I start walking. My legs feel strained.

I should’ve _known._ There were briefings on airships patrolling somewhere nearby. I just…. I don’t remember. I thought the glaives were looking over the ocean.

I was too busy preparing to… read about the war? Prepare??

Astrals, I feel dumb.

Trudging on through the dark, my left knee burns slightly, my shin and toes nearly numb. The ground hits my heels jaggedly. I’ve never felt this way before. Can’t dwell on that now though. First priority should be finding a place for the night.

Takka was right, I should not have wandered alone at night.

But what is Niflheim doing here? Are they here for me, or…?

I don’t know.

I want to vomit.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

  


##### Chapter 11: A Forgotten Threat


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THE REST OF THE STORY: blood, needles, people getting killed/ descriptions of violence. Individual chapters will not have warnings.

~Prompto~

My phone vibrates in my pocket while letting out a chorus of squaking loud as a whole flock of angry chocobos. Both Ignis and Gladio turn to glare at me. I shut it off, exclaiming, “sorry! Last alarm of the day, I promise!” In fact, I go ahead and shut off the rest of my alarms, seeing as I made it to the Citadel on time.

Dim sunlight streams down from the clouds, the tips of buildings glimmering. The sun began to rise on my bus ride over, the sight a dreary reminder of how we should all still be in bed. Red from the dawn still touches Iggy’s hair and glasses as he resumes his patient gaze towards the Citadel’s main doors. We wait on the front steps, the massively wide, gentle incline nearly devoid of life so early in the morning. Behind us, the Regalia waits, packed and ready, silent in the time before departure.

Sighing, Gladio checks his phone.

I don’t mind the wait. Not anymore. I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready now, ready to do something, to go out and search. My heart hammers unsteadily at the arriving departure. When I finally catch up to Noct, I’m ready to talk to him, to tell him the truth. I need to apologize. I don’t know for how much yet. But, clearly, he kept secrets from me, and that makes me part of the reason he left. I know I can’t fix everything, but I can at least try and patch things up on my end. If he never wants to speak to me again, I’ll leave; if he tells us not to chase him: I’ll go home. More so, I’m ready to listen, prepared so beyond any test in my life. I want to hear him again, to know what he’s been thinking. He has some explaining to do- if he’s still willing to speak with any of us.

In the meantime, I’ve left a note in my room in case he sneaks back to the city, or, if he never left in the first place. Gladio’s written several more letters for Noct too, sliding them into the void. My fingers twitch at the thought of passing items through the void, to cross the vastness of space in an instant, to feel any sort of connection. Last night, I tried to slide my own note into the void, mimicking every move I’ve ever seen Iggy, Gladio and Noct use. I want to reach out too.

Except Noct’s gone and Iggy said I would only be able to use magic once Noct shares his with me.

I half-close my eyes. Last night did not involve much sleeping. I’ve never had to pack before, nor prepare for a trip. To preserve a little of my self-worth, I only asked Gladio maybe fifteen questions early on in the night. I looked up the rest. To start, I did my laundry. All of it. Couldn’t remember what was clean and what wasn’t. Didn’t want to start the trip already in need of finding a washing machine. I called over Clypeus and Galeam, two other glaives-in-training, to take the perishables. I made sure to put all the important things, duplicate house keys, extra phone charger and spare gil on the counter. That way, if Noct sneaks in through the unlocked window, or if my parents come back before me, there’ll be some relief to being there. The place itself got a quick pass with the vacuum, the trash taken out, and counters wiped down. I hope I did things right.

I left a not for my parents too. They’re in Lestallum for a business venture and I don’t have a way to contact them until they get back. I hope they don’t worry for me too much. They don’t even know I entered the Kingsglaive yet. My mother won’t approve of that. She always figures the worst outcomes will occur in every situation. My dad says I do the same. The worst to happen would be Noct getting kidnapped, and Cor already has a plan for that, I think.

Really, as far as I’m concerned, life’s too much of a hellscape right now to imagine it being any worse.

Still. I’ve never been beyond the city. In a way, I look forward to seeing what the rest of the world has to offer. Well, except for-

I touch my wristband, finding comfort in the skin-tight fabric.

Swinging wide, the door atop the stairs lets out two people, who stroll down the stairs with frowning faces. It’s Naara and Nyx. Nyx talks while waving his arms in stiff emphasis while Naara keeps her eyes forward, focused on some distant point. Today, Nyx dons his best attire, a metal curling horn in the like of Bahamut’s rises out from his left shoulder. On his right, a blue sash from about his waist fans out behind him like a cape. By comparison Naara appears modest, her hair in a multitude of braids with blue and gold clips, glinting faintly. She bears the crest of the glaives on her vest, a golden array of swords and feathers protecting the heart. Her jacket has looseness around the cuffs, and her pants tuck into her boots seamlessly. She’s prepared to fight. Both have knives on display, Nyx’s across his back- I can see the strap across his chest- and Naara has one at each hip.

Today, Regis will announce Noct’s disappearance, and the city will lock its gates to all those going in or out for the next seven days. The three of us won’t be here for that, for which I’m glad. Ignis insisted that the drama would be intense after the speech. By the way Naara and Nyx look, it seems they assume the same.

Nyx calls out to us first: “sorry to keep you waiting, the King had news for us.” He says this with a bite and half-snarl on his face that doesn’t at all indicate he feels apologetic.

Naara pats the air in the space between them in emphasis for him to calm down. I move closer and the five of us form a small circle on the stairwell. Of the few people within eyesight, none wander close enough to listen in.

Speaking evenly, Naara explains, passing her gaze between the lot of us, “we found footage of Noct leaving Insomnia. Here,” she pulls out her phone. Scrolling through, she shows us a still image.

Iggy leans forward a bit to look at the dark picture. Most of the frame encompasses a white, six-wheeled truck, beside which, a blurry figure walks. He has his head turned slightly, with most of his face away from the camera, hair pulled back out of his eyes; it’s Noct.

They’ve found him.

My heart warms.

“This is from the morning of his disappearance, at Ostium Gorge around six-hundred hours,” Naara continues. “We suspect he snuck abord a truck to leave the city.” Pulling her hand back, she slides her phone into her pocket.

Ignis shifts back, “he got off at Ostium?”

Naara nods, “the guards at Ostium would have spotted him otherwise. All passing vehicles are stopped and inspected by the glaives. This was taken just before the checkpoint. He must have warped through the gatehouse and left along the water.”

“And no one spotted him,” Gladio’s voice resonates like tumbling stones.

Stiffening, Nyx responds, “only three Glaives were working that morning; the rest would have been out scouting for Niflheim aircraft. No one would be looking at the ground.”

“There was fog over the water that day too,” Naara points out. Nyx half-nods in confirmation.

“At least we have something to go off on.” Ignis puts in. He proceeds, “we’ll stop at Hammerhead first, then move along the route as planned.”

“He would have passed by three days ago had he been traveling on foot.”

Woof. We have a lot of space to travel. We should have left sooner.

“And,” Naara straightens, her face taught, “Regis wanted you to take these,” she tilts her head towards Nyx. Opening the palm of his hand, Nyx summons a silver, small briefcase-shaped metal container with two clasps on the top and the glaive insignia on the side. “Although I hope you never have to use them,” she remarks, her voice dropping to an undertone.

Gladio tilts his head, his hair shifting over his shoulder. Nyx’s tone drops a notch, “darts. Sleeping darts. In case.” Ignis takes the briefcase and brings it to his side, nearly looking casual. Crossing his arms, Nyx shuffles his stance, “Regis says to bring him back. No matter what.”

Weight drips from his words despite the almost reserved way the captain passes along the message.

“There’s been another letter too,” Naara says, her voice so soft it nearly becomes a whisper, although her composure remains the same.

Nyx unfurls himself, “Regis got a letter from Noct too; the day he left the Citadel. Decided just now to tell us about it. Told us not to tell anybody.” He scans us all while rolling his eyes, face half-smiling, half-scowling.

“Understood,” Ignis responds for the three of us.

“Noct told ‘im to get a new heir.”

Gladio and Ignis exchange a quick glance.

Louder, Naara elaborates, “Noctis left the letter in the void for his father, presumably on the morning he left, although Regis didn’t elaborate on that. The Prince wrote that he won’t be returning, and that should Regis desire it, he can find a new son and heir for the throne. Noctis suggested Nyx for the position.”

Snapping his gaze to Nyx, Ignis narrows his eyes. Nyx meanwhile looks as if to contain a beaming smile. Gladio shrugs, but he has a thin smile on his lips and his eyes glint in the light.

Shaking his head, Nyx responds, wiping the half-grin from his face, “let him know I won’t take him up on that unless he talks with me first.”

Ignis looks ready to say something, but Naara cuts him off, her face taught, eyebrows raised, clearly addressing Ignis, “in the meantime, we’ll do all we can to help you from here. Don’t expect too much, I’m afraid. My team is already being broken apart to go undercover and wait at the usual shady hideouts; don’t know what type of slime this news will drag up. The other two teams out there are headed towards the Vesperpool; they’ll move eastwards from there until they return to Insomnia. I’ll call when we’re done with the speech. Good luck out there.”

“Thanks, we’ll need it,” Gladio has a twinge to his voice, the gravel in his voice softening to sand.

Naara narrows her eyes and glances back up the steps, “you should get going. Regis gives his address in three hours; you should be nearing Hammerhead by then.”

Now Iggy has a softness to his voice, “may the Astrals help you with _that_.”

Nyx’s eyes widen and he looks ready to launch into a full-on tirade.

“Well, good luck!” I offer, receiving a sharp turn from Naara, “we’ll let you know as soon as we find anything.”

Her smile warms, “thank you. May you be safe on the long road.”

After sharing goodbyes, the three of us turn, walking down the stairs together. Gladio casts me a small smile.

Once back at the Regalia, I cast a glance back. Nyx and Naara have begin the ascent to the front doors, moving with careful strides as if to slow down time. They’ll have a rough time here. The King won’t be too pleased with Noct’s high regards of Nyx, and I imagine His Majesty won’t treat Nyx too kindly for it. The speech will draw the whole city’s attention too. We haven’t had news this big since General Glauca’s death.

“Ready?” Ignis calls, opening his door.

Called back to myself, I get in the back seat (Gladio and I already arm-wrestled over riding shotgun). With the door shut, the car feels strangely muffled. At least it’s comfortable- and in high-end fashion. Leather lightly dimples under my fingertips as I brush over the inside door handle.

Up front, Iggy passes the case to Gladio.

We’re finally leaving. My fingers quiver at the notion.

Iggy starts the engine and begins to roll us out of the rotary.

Clasps unbuckle. Leaning forward, I poke my head up to the front seat to see the innards of the case Nyx gave us. Iggy warns, “put your seatbelt on, Prompto.” I ‘hmm’ in acknowledgement, but for now, six needles fill my vision. Purple tufts mark their ends. The thin point at the other end makes my gut clench. Lifting up the inner compartment, Gladio reveals three, small pistols. Short-range only. The churning in my innards increases.

This isn’t right.

Gladio seems to share my sentiment, shutting the box and rumbling with only the barest hint of a growl, “glad to see Regis showing such fondness for his son.”

Ignis has claws in his voice, and I fall back to put my seatbelt on. “We’ll bring them with us. If Noct doesn’t intend on coming back, capturing him will be our next best bet.”

I can feel Gladio also staring at Ignis, although I can no longer see Gladio behind the seat-rest.

In Gladio’s silence, I declare: “we’re not shooting Noct!”

“As nice as it would be to _talk_ Noct out of this situation, he’s far too stubborn to listen.” Ignis says without hesitation.

“That doesn’t mean we _shoot_ him!”

“We’re bringing him back, Prompto, no matter what. If words don’t cut it, we’ll need another method.”

“handcuffs sound more reasonable.” Still awful, but reasonable.

“He would simply phase out of them.”

I start. He has a point. Although, if Noct won’t talk, I would definitely rather not drag him back with force.

Grumbling, Gladio sets the briefcase on the floor, “well, _I_ for one won’t be shooting Noct.”

“No, you won’t,” Ignis agrees, “Prompto and I are the better shooters.”

“I won’t be shooting Noct, either!”

“I’m _not_ arguing for this as our go-to plan,” Ignis insists, face forward, watching the road, “ _if_ Noct doesn’t want to return peacefully, we’ll need a better plan than fighting him. Did you _plan_ on using your greatsword against him?”

“Absolutely not,” Gladio growls, as if the question were a challenge.

“With all luck, no one will be shooting anybody. But, we need to be prepared.”

“Yeah. Prepared to ruin any trust Noct might still have in us.”

“We can deal with that later. We’re part of the glaive, if Regis demands it, we’ll follow through.”

“Nyx didn’t seem all too pleased with the decision.”

“I’m not making decisions based on how happy Nyx is.”

Gladio huffs, shifting so he faces out the window.

Diving in, I plead, “at least let me talk to Noct first, alright? Maybe he’ll want to come home after all.”

“Of course,” Ignis says in a clean breath, as if the past conversation did not happen. As if Gladio doesn’t have his back turned to us.

“Thanks,” I nod, and before the unnerving silence rolls in, I add, “can we listen to music?”

“Sure,” Iggy fiddles with the dashboard momentarily before Gladio resumes somewhat normal seat posture and gets the radio playing some classical tunes.

Gladio would never hold a grudge.

Leaning back, I let out a hushed sigh. Around us, traffic crawls by in the careful and chaotic hands of motorists. People pass by on the streets, streets that I’ve spent my whole life on.

Silence does reign supreme under the music, despite Iggy looking calmer than a purring cat. Leaning against the door, I eye Gladio in the front seat for a moment. He seems preoccupied with his phone.

We shouldn’t be fighting; we’re supposed to be friends.

Somehow, we’ve managed to fall apart before even leaving the city.

##### Chapter 12: Departure (reprise)

##### End Arc One: The Wayward Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! Thank you to everyone who's read this far. There's going to be a ~3 week break between now and the next chapter. I plan on making pictures for some of the upcoming chapters, so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Comments, thoughts, complaints, favorite music is much appreciated. Let me know what you think! Thanks!  
> -Junco


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